a plane noses down toward heathrow
heads in from the chiswick line-up
winking across the line of orions belt
the dog star lurks low behind
a chimney pot across the avenue
baleful perhaps though hidden
my breath drifts to the garden fence
a fox barks somewhere near
a hard frost settles in the grass
and a few leaves stiffen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem