© hpkluge 2018
berries promised to be growing in this wood
a wise man and a puppetplayer are sitting at the gate of dawn
exchanging views of life, of love and hate.
A merlin circling, unseen above their heads, above their secret lawn
is recognising them as beings, not interested in their fate.
He gets himself a field mouse then savouring his meal.
Later flying up again, for to spy another steal
he views two bodies lying stock-still in their blood.
For him there´s been no reason to be understood.