Humid. Clouds bleed orangey-red
I look to a bent tree and wait.
Quiet punctuations rise from heather.
White spots clap above body– a male
glides to bent trees and bent lands
at the lip of our universe,
I have seen this same male perch
Large tell-tale black eyes, that white moustache
Goat Sucker, xylophone of Charon, you call
ku-ick twice and launch sky pale as clay