A BUZZING:

There’s a bright yellow light coming low across
the fields, a peaceful hiss filtered through a thin
morning haze. Foreground in sharp relief, middle distance
is a cut-out, stuck in fresh ploughed earth in hues of blue.
The sky is blue too, broken by dispersing clouds, face down
with dirty bellies running from the aftermath of an enormous
fire, white on their tips of their outstretched fingers
reaching to touch the sun.
Birdsong & stillness except, connected to the hiss behind the
haze. Everything is calm, in sequence, tiny clicks, except for
a single electric motor thing, buzzing frantically behind the
trees & coming this way.

(K)