A Pint, after revelations
to re-fuse our disconnected
A silver snake, slithering down
through complex Moorland patchworks;
Brown Bracken, yellow Grass.
Black Cows standing on mounds,
proud like the bare trees beside them.
Deep fog rolling off the pines,
But that’s where I am going.
Single, Silver, Solitary Sentinel.
Brown organs grow out of the tree, flesh hanging down, pouches for small mammals to tumble out of still in their foetal form.