First Walk

Sooner or later, the world comes
to meet you: as the keep gate opens,
green turns to white — the verge
a train of seed-pearls in early sun.
On the drive you are back in dusk,
tree shapes striping the gravel;
then the road where warmth
has a purchase on the day,
your breath no longer a tease
of vapour.
Glass bubbles bend
grass tips; crows slice air
with serrated wings, voices.