And Just The Birds

Elegy of silent windows of wind in the boughs of the trees
Of the plain of lights wrapped up in a grief
The crest of roof broken'n'left walls overgrown of grass'n'wine
White shrub washed down of drops of storm windows bunged with rotten boards
And just the birds live here wanderers from distant hills
The bringin' the breath of a space breath of unreal impetus