The crows an exuberant torrent,
Stipple the sky with
A flurry of rushes

As precise in their passes
As serpentine perch
In a pulsing pool

At the beckoning funnel of the moors
A stand of spruce, as seismograph,
Lazily traces
The birth of a
Ruffling wind

© John Mackie, Easter Tomloan Farmhouse, November 10th 2009