Ground zero

Poem by Jonathan Wooding

'...building a meeting-house from open air...' | Photo: by Valentin Petkov on Unsplash.

Rain is all mist without fall, and
mottled with grey motions, the sky.
There’s a sea-roar in that fruitless sycamore,

and eucalyptus leads the cheer, throwing
jackdaws in streaming perichoresis
about a pale, unblooded sky.

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