Birds who lose themselves at the edges of the sky
For RB

i
It’s November, it’s early, and the rain has started up.
Dawn hovers beyond the window, skirts full of birds
who, let loose into light, will become a presence
in the courtyard, asking. What we think we see
is a reflection of what is; is a question.
Birds know about coming and going; about staying still.

ii
The sea is breath at the edges of the land.
What we know of the beyond shows itself
where air and water meet – a line
that is no line at all but a slight shift in register,
in hydrogen, in oxygen, in substance, in shade and hue.
We are les oiseaux qui se perdent au bout du ciel. iii The Zenrin says the pine tree is a manifestation of wisdom. Here in our time the sacred ash is dying…