Birds are the thoughts of
Trees in the evening,
Perched in their minds.
I go down to the Arches
And see the river in full spate
With salmon leaping, defying gravity.
The fields are dark
And the factory lights
Twinkle beyond.
The traffic whispers on the by-pass
And the rain creates
Old ladies' faces,
Wrinkles in a pond.
John Thorkild Ellison
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nocturne-14/
