Three Poems

Watermarks
    for Claire Beynon

Engines ahead of us and we’re drawn,
another journey beginning in darkness;

we go through the cutting,
faces half-selving on the double glazing –

now fading into the slate dawn.
The train’s refrain picks up –

particular, particular, particularly –
as everything waxes,

bruised light letting down
on wet hollows, fields harrowed, wheat on the turn.

Eyes follow the soft verge,
a certain line of questioning falling over

hedges, grounded rooks,
sheds, suggestions of thresholds;
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