THE PLANES

The heat quivers as the shadows pass,
The heat quivers . . . but the planes are gone.

Out of the wood the silent deer may stare,
Smell the quick sun and sink into the dark.

Immovable pilots glide on nylon tyres;
The hill's cleavage roll its green pearls.

Out of the field's rank collusion - bloom.
Rank grass suffocates with dew.

Out of each eye more silent than the night
Silent forests regulate the sky.

Delicately sullen - impalpable as God
Valleys float darkening into pines.

Out of the trees buzzards pause - and sleep,
Red Admirals stay on their blue flowers,

But the heat quivers as the shadows pass -
...