The bells chime nine

the heat 

Of the heart now empty

Of desire the 

summer spent beyond

muscle response and

Air-conditioned moments

Of absolute solitude 

Where 

The things in themselves

That increased in pressure that slipped passed us 

Were too gilded to take notice of

Before the rushing water force

Of times temporality

Took them down stream

and fractured into

crystalline equivalents

they hung in a cave where thoughts impale themselves

reach back but they have gone

smiling faces drag us forwards onwards

to where

the woodland creatures still gather at dusk

The tawny owl and the buzzard 

are the same

ephemeral 

approaching 

mind-fire 

but bespoke

Now whispered in memorandum.