Hearing the trickling, stuttering, crickle-crackle of the magpie
I saw you
Arranging a twig by your feet
Before leaving it
And flapping to a further tree.
Where from the furthest back corner of your invisible eye
your brother or sister or lover or mother
Gently clapped through the branches to a present perch
Had I dreamed I was up there?
I recognised the space, the neighbouring weave of branches,
As they were already in your eye
When your relation joined.