James Wilkes

4 variations on the same midwinter


The gold cover and
the world breathing birth to zero.
The weather bleached of haunt.
It’s now love, to decline.


Breath witness
of hare’s haunt, and sheep’s.
Fire now. Light me.
Don’t dim beside day.


Light’s lower rip to curtain
    so I stood breathing the weather of hare and sheep.
If ever it’s still, inquisitive and bright.


Through eve, so
birth the barrow the fields.
Un-flowered on blether
need roused fingers and rise