british winter-time two – Lakeland

rain glosses a jackdaw’s bill
against the promise of a cold bright day
..........................
cloud spills through wintergreen wands
the landscape’s spectral magicians
conjuring crags and fells
we deny all magic but draw sharp breath
at the effortless skill of air
and applaud moisture’s motion
that draws modest veils only to strip the bracken-rusted bank
.............................
pan left, and water rushing to escape ragging rocks
flings itself into space
divides, and divides again and again to multiply the mere
lost tarns mirror blackthorn ashamed of un-named mist
...............................
in the distance the air gathers its breath
and exhales to exalt the jackdaw and split a graveyard yew