I see as through a skylight in my brain
The mole strew its buildings in the rain,

The swallows turn above their broken homes
And all my acres in delirium.


Straight-jacketed by cold and numb-skulled
Now sleep the well-adjusted and the skilled –

The bat folds its wings like a winter leaf
The squirrel in its hollow holds aloof.

The weasel and ferret, the stoat and the fox
Move hand in glove across the equinox.

I can tell how softly their footsteps go –
Their footsteps borrow silence from the snow.

Michael Longley


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