Change
A few feathers on the river path
By the copse betray the corpse
Nothing more sinister than unseasonal cold weather
The egrets and like have returned to the river
The same week as the storm from Russia
The big drifts take their time
Stay unthawed on the far banks for days
Discoloured by the top soil that is blowing off the fields
The white birds fly, awkward away upriver
Always away
And I move, a violence all my own shape
Back through the town
Alone and shamed
A man on his worn-out empty way
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB