Lighting the wood burner in the morning
smoke frays
stretching for the faraway
ghosts released from the wood
scenting the sound
of the rivers unravelling
joining the drifts of frost
flaking from the earth
they un-wrap the perfume
bound around their wrists
add another weave
to our clothes
extend our hair
and like wool
snag on the barbs of our beards
lace their faint fingers with ours
from behind us
they lead us
through forgotten fields
in return
through our skin
they feel the sun again
Shoals Of Starlings 