in the stillnight

in the stillnight of darkness
the pleasures explode
like a taste of the future
gone past
backwards in time
we hurtle from grave to grave
rebirth to earlier birth
until we lie exhausted in a heap
beneath the grass soil of all time

Blackbird on the rowan tree

blackbird on the rowan tree
nest-building
keeping an eye out for ancient aliens

He knows they exist
he's been abducted before
took him days to be released and get back to his nest work

Now he's gone again
Hope he's at his nest
doing his craft, his joinery, his tailoring

Hope those damned ancient aliens
haven't taken him away again.
They really should be more considerate.