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& a red kite turns to challenge a corvid mob of 1

in gap between ferocious weather tawny owl & barn owl luminous & fleeting in fullbeams singletracker spools out towards deep blue bank dense & muscular hoarding & plunging on the village

& on the porchlight - perilously close to cobwebs - ragged as an august birchleaf, canary shouldered thorn

& the harvest stopped by weight of water fields can do no other than gather & hold it is a bide & wait evening house sparrows in docken junkyards a blackbird sits to weather out

& bedraggled august all floodplain in stubble the rivulet & drip of it rain runs off yr slanted shoulders starts in at the chin & runnels to nape of yr neck

meteorological summer ebb, sun in the blackhorn's sloes & craneflies rising up from the dusktime grass - along the river alder leaves harden to filament, light wavers on the flow & contrast slowly greys

scent running through airvents is rain-cooled cut fields undertone of leaf-rot back to night errands of full-beam & eyeshine

& these wetmustard fields, green below thin grain, bails spongeing in the wet, a sodden pastoral under digital maps of yellow warning all angular as though precise

& the grey heron (celebrant of rain & nothing else) stands middle of a pool seeped to squelch takes off from this loss shaking the scales of their wings

(sough of hardened, turning canopy). 3 robins contest the space hedge to field boundary in song & hurtled thread of violent flight. (a buzzard is above this gaze fixed acres away utters kee from time to time measuring gaps between gusts).

errand with lag-&-wait, see the light out at the coast as curlew & oystercatcher, heron & ringed plover - even little egret - fade into mud & harbour lights sharpen on grey

elderberries in the gasblue picked at already harvest such as it is begins again & goes on loudly under blackberry sky

weight of afternoon (2 seasons in filters of cloud) everything you pass (roe, common darter, speckled wood) wants to rest in stilled air & you walk to a rising tide for the movement & the breeze

& walk stubble again (such as it is) bales you think better than grain the wide still of quiet the hidden moon & arclights ticking on

new visitor - young great spotted woodpecker (telltale remnants of their fledgling red cap)

& glisk by 19.30 now, the huge roil of horizons that informs the late & early year - september's moon half-full & setting by 21.00, handlers in the fields stacking bales, summer wrapped for storage

watching martins cut above stubble when the squeaking of geese comes & they scatter across the horizon their own spilled grain sky deepens & the moon is a gold field

& these nights the moon shows (the withered canopy) tractor below line of hill gathers & gathers spindling light in dark the horizon throbs & glows & wavers

& silver of midafternoon scattered swallows zeeping as you harvest in the margins