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February 12<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n – the day the birds first sing, according to the medieval calendar. on the Hills Hoist overnight; in the rookeries that boucl\u00e9 the threadbare Elm. nicotined sky; sun like sun in water. The vaseline-lens of blossom will blur The elder is not in bud. You made me apologise to it last year, beg forgiveness for There\u2019s the woodpecker\u2019s mechanical tattoo on the dead, breaking only to scoff; And that pied suburban parrot, strutting and chuckling, flirting its tail. One for <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Kate Wise<\/strong> has been published in New Trad Journal, Prole, Angle,<\/em> and StepAway<\/em> magazines,\u00a0and on Proletarian Poetry<\/em>.\u00a0She\u00a0was commended in the 2013 Cafe Writers and\u00a02014\u00a0Manchester Cathedral competitions, and placed third in the 2014 Ware Poets competition.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" February 12 – the day the birds first sing, according to the medieval calendar. For now, they are caught in the dewdrops the spider has hung to dry on the Hills Hoist overnight; in the rookeries that boucl\u00e9 the threadbare Elm. All is mist or spike. The sun is ill-defined, uncertain, seeping […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8396","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8396","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8396"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8396\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8398,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8396\/revisions\/8398"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8396"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8396"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8396"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nFor now, they are caught in the dewdrops the spider has hung to dry<\/p>\n
\nAll is mist or spike. The sun is ill-defined, uncertain, seeping through<\/p>\n
\nthe world soon; pastelled pigeons will bubble cool mornings, but not yet.<\/p>\n
\nhacking it back. Give it a good explanation, you said. Mess? Is order not enough?<\/p>\n
\nnot silenced by grief for the one we found frozen in the trough under ice unlikely thick.<\/p>\n
\nsorrow. I stop, and wait, and hope a second joins.<\/p>\n