How does a man become
a different creature
without warning
change his shape
in three seconds?
I say three seconds
it could have been less.
I never counted them.
I was too busy thinking
about sunlight
slanting through trees
how rushing water sounds
across a pebble bed
naming the feathers
in a birds wing.
Published by colinhopkirk
Poet, writer, artist. Writing and performing in England, publishing anywhere. Member of Hexameter performing poets. Workshops, projects, cross-arts collaborations.
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Colin Hopkirk Poetry 