The trees, good Seraphim,

begin to sing


at dawn

about making sugar


out of light

and the happy traffic


between high and low –

as if that were all




I expect compensation

for all I don’t

say –


for each time I stop

before coming


to an obvious conclusion

or an uncertain end –


for my discretion.




(Music needs silence

more than silence needs music.)


Photograph © Alexander Tiupa

Five Things Right Now: Cynan Jones
Discoveries: Polymorphous Perversity