Slow, the road told me
in the 6 a.m. glow.
The sparrows burbled from their hedge,
the last white blackthorn petals fell.
The sky yawned
from pale pink, to pale blue.
The cormorant on the No Fishing Sign
hung itself out to dry.
My steps sent coots hurtling across the water,
beneath the silent stares of swans.
When I thought to look for deer
four roe took form in sunlit growth.