Angle IV - original poetry

(The Year of the Horse was nearly over :
in five months I would return to England
where there were my books, notes, references, in
boxes, waiting, as the damn crow would not.)

There’s nothing, the field really is empty,
the one concrete spot where nothing happens :
no matter how I search the horizon,
the bird has disappeared, there’s only me.

Nightmare : but sometimes a sparrowhawk would
be so high : there’s one in the stratosphere
watching the diurnal role, suspended
above mortal care – but no avoiding

       subduction on terra firma : mistakes
       or not, it must be so : what is silence?

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Angle I
Angle II
Angle III
and
Angle V

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The poem is my own and my wife took the photo. Thank you for reading. @richardjuckes