There! Atop a quicken bread stand,
Sits the coal-tit singing softly amidst,
Cries of market and tidal currency,
And see! Watch it gallop away into,
The ocean of faces slightly above,
Heads it swirls with similar precision,
To a master watchmaker on Tuesdays,
As it beckons us on into its world,
Of windows and lamp-post giants,
The sense of dream falls away into,
Childish fantasy like none tasted,
How the air crackles with magic,
The way of such songbird's knowing,
Affectionate dances' pattern and poise,
Cooking cakes on the wind passages,
Directing dandelion seeds and dried,
Cherry petals which clasp kinesis kindly,
Bringing back the newspaper stain upon,
Well worked surfaces now lost found,
In some post-gentry bustle formed from,
Forced and backward prompts to forget.
Rowan Blair Colver
Sits the coal-tit singing softly amidst,
Cries of market and tidal currency,
And see! Watch it gallop away into,
The ocean of faces slightly above,
Heads it swirls with similar precision,
To a master watchmaker on Tuesdays,
As it beckons us on into its world,
Of windows and lamp-post giants,
The sense of dream falls away into,
Childish fantasy like none tasted,
How the air crackles with magic,
The way of such songbird's knowing,
Affectionate dances' pattern and poise,
Cooking cakes on the wind passages,
Directing dandelion seeds and dried,
Cherry petals which clasp kinesis kindly,
Bringing back the newspaper stain upon,
Well worked surfaces now lost found,
In some post-gentry bustle formed from,
Forced and backward prompts to forget.
Rowan Blair Colver
