Downy Dawn

bringing the kettle to boil
bergamot in bed
The Unremembered leaving
most of us by the river

browsing sheep
making hay
sunny sounds
of an empty afternoon

in moon lapse
our skin growing more pale
wild in parts
but learning better

woods whisper and sigh
over pine cones
and bracken
in my pocket

last of downy dawns -
my shirt sweeping
leftover stars
and scars