The start of her long migration
I walk in this first frost
From the old oak above me
buzzard sweeps a wide circle
and heads west
gives itself to air
to everywhere, nowhere.
The stars are in our belly; the Milky Way our umbilicus.
Is it a consolation that the stuff of which we’re made
is star-stuff too?
– That wherever you go you can never fully disappear –
dispersal only: carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen.
Tree, rain, coal, glow-worm, horse, gnat, rock.