Elegy of silent windows

Of wind in the boughs of the trees

Of the plain of lights

Wrapped up in a grief



The crest of roof broken'n' left

Walls overgrown of grass'n' wine

Whate shrub washed down of drops of storm

Windows bunged with rotten boards



And just the birds live here

Wanderers from distant hills

The bringing' the breath of a space

Breath of unreal impetus