Ponderous to a sunny maid
‘naar Van Gogh’ as it were
till light’s defeat and
beetly darkness bristles.
Martyred in the sodden woods
a cuckoo limps a bastard
birth,
the undergrowth merry,
tipsy with the earth’s sly fruits.
In another part of the forest
loitering fire probes
the bloody thorns, gate
sings the dog’s pursuit.