All in the stilly night the muntjac
roars from its hedge: a barking roar
of July, heat, its own broken-open
fruition
under black
viscose, a sky
static with plane-roar.

The intermission after the greatest air show in the world;
fields and lane recovering;
tarmac tonguing sky again,
languid
in the summer half-dark, towards Fairford

where ancient glass trembles,
facets of dark open to tumble out
king, revenge-tragedy, triumphal colors of God.