there have been strange
going-ons´
in the agave
the week gone-

the summer
beginning to wane
the wheateaters
a trifle

familiar-
they say
play us  a tune
good head-

let us arrest
and rejoice in
this moment
or

(some bread
would be nice)
summer is near-on
over

autumnal´s
melancholia
just around
the corner-

play an air!-
on that old hohner
(in g)
-down by the sally gardens..

after breakfast
with the egg still
on me
i fulfill

this request
plenty slide and
trill
a sweet memory-

more may be less
and their silence
is last
the green grass

what was is now
dry straw
the swallow balance
on tall

soar
and fall
with accompanying
twitters

cast
their happiness
nail
the moon´s

beam
still..
in the distance
a paper sails

-deer cross a
stream
at sunset
brown

and greens
i rush up
a hill
into town-

the end
and well-mannered
the black and white
tailed

but slowly an
encore
a refusal
there are chores

one castigates
from behind the
gable
sited

brevity
able
sorry
i have

to wash up
perhaps later
and worry
a bathe

you may fly
i an old
penny
in the war..