What you see

on the road to Carlops

in Holy Week

The earth is black and freshly turned
The sharp and comestible smell is
walnuts and lemon or maybe
fresh leaves crushed between the fingers.

A blade reverses the settled order.

Winter thatch is sundered and uprooted.
Something vital flows from the furrows.

The tractor follows its even course along the ground
with nothing to negotiate.

A cloud of screaming gulls follows for good or ill

at a safe distance.