The cast wind blows through me cold 
Breathing deep deep down pike fishing 
Grabbing out his hands full 
Eels writhing 
One day spoonbills did stoop down their beaks 
To the black sweet star swaying water 
Fine dreams 
Seeing him there with his coat hung on the tail 
By the door swinging open 
And there they stand still boy girl 
In the morning firelight 
Washing their hands in the snow.

Here the lapwings go

Owls hoot their bone flutes 
Inland smoke rise 
Heron slouched in the slit 
Where lies the femmen and their wives 
With pot shards and scythes dissolving 
My hands in the silky mud feeling 
God holds me above the water 
Hears my garbled words.

But I know where all the birds hide 
Their eggs speckled and warm 
Glowing in the dawn 
Hearts whirrng against my palm 
Sharp innocent eyes.

And on the wind my boat rises

Sturgeon crease the water's skin 
Around beside in front of him 
Rowing out, drifting out 
Watch my figure burn