Sheep in Fog

The hills step off into whiteness.

People or stars

Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.



The train leaves a line of breath.

O slow

Horse the colour of rust,



Hooves, dolorous bells -

All morning the

Morning has been blackening,



A flower left out.

My bones hold a stillness, the far

Fields melt my heart.



They threaten

To let me through to a heaven

Starless and fatherless, a dark water.