On the gra** when I arrive, Filling the stillness with life, But ready to scare off At the very first wrong move, In the ivy when I leave, It's you, blackbird, I love. I park, pause, take heed. Breathe. Just breathe and sit And lines I once translated Come back: 'I want away To the house of d**h, to my father Under the low clay roof.' And I think of one gone to him, A little stillness dancer - Haunter-son, lost brother - Cavorting through the yard, So glad to see me home, My homesick first term over. And think of a neighbour's words Long after the accident; 'Yon bird on the shed roof, Up on the ridge for weeks - I said nothing at the time But I never liked yon bird' The automatic lock Clunks shut, the blackbird's panic Is shortlived, for a second I've a bird's eye view of myself, A shadow on raked gravel In front of my house of life. Hedge-hop, I am absolute For you, your ready talkback, Your each stand-offish comeback, Your picky, nervy goldbeak - On the gra** when I arrive,