The East wind blows through me cold
Breathing deep deep down pike fishing
Grabbing out his hands full
Eels writhing
One day spoonbills did stoop down their beaks
To the black sweet star swaying water
Fine deep dreams
Seeing him there with his coat hanging on a nail
By the door swinging open
And there they stand still boy girl
In the morning firelight
Washing their hands in the snow.

Hear the lapwings go

Owls hoot their bone flutes
Inland smoke rise
Heron slouched above the silt
Where lies the fenmen and their wives
With pot shards and scythes dissolving
My hands in the silky mud feeling
God holds me above the water
Hears my garbled words
But I know where all the birds hide
Their eggs speckled and warm
Glowing in the dawn
Hearts whirring against my palm
Sharp innocent eyes

And on the wind my boat rides.

Sturgeon crease the waters skin
Around beside in front of him
Rowing out
Drifting out

Watch my figure burn.