After the Air Tattoo

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.