By the Burn of Sunnardee

by Aidan Semmens

The greylags as they turn
are Spitfires homing in,
fighter formation, finger four,
white arses flashing in the sun.

Here a war survivor,
barracks, observation post
or hangar, block-and-timber built,
is become a homestead
pebbledashed to grey;

nearby a shallow grave
in sodden ground
watered from the hill,
new-marked resting place
of Ozzy, presumed dog;

peewits picking over
new-ploughed earth; ravens
plucking eyes and entrails
from a roadkill goose.