Dust : 2nd draft from notes 25/07/05

There are lines where
There were none;
When you were in the North
And young.

Before we stood upon
This weald;
Before the falling
Dust revealed

That the softening of
The summer air
Does by flying
Lay a layer.

Of death upon the
Living things
From whose life
Its flying springs

Yet though it is life
That lays on death
We will not stay one
Beat or breath

And hold our cries
or laughter down
To quieten the
Covering ground.

For if we should how
Would we know
When dust had
taken us below?

For though there are lines
Where there were none
Our lives above
Have scarce begun.