'...building a meeting-house from open air...' Photo: by Valentin Petkov on Unsplash.
Ground zero
Poem by Jonathan Wooding
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.