-
On August XVII
Grass turned to hay bales Turf open again to sky Crows stalk the stubble . n.b. The corvids leave the pasture in flower to other creatures, but as soon as the ground is clear they descend, spread themselves out, (respecting each others’ personal space), and start grubbing about searching for leather jackets and other insect… Read more
-
On August XVI
It is a little late in the year to make hay Intense heat reduces to rain too frequently Morning dew takes encouragement to lift Cloud cover sitting like a cosy duvet on night-warmed bed has to be dragged off by the Sun So the hours available to flick and line up the mowings are few… Read more
-
On August XV
Morning’s welcome cool Canvas sky hangs limp and pale Ragwort bright as Sun . CLP 26/08/2019 Read more
-
On August XIV
All day I hear the machine marching Its tramping approach Its tramping retreat The slow about-turn before the hawthorn hedge Tempo unwavering Relentless chomp, chomp, champ Regulation clunk, clang, rattle Persistant whirl and blow The repeated beating down of ripe wheat Blades tearing through the stalks The cutting and threshing of the combine harvester Wheezing… Read more
-
On the Marital Bed
when the ebbs and flows of our marriage Ebbed so far out that the idea of the distant sea finally returning became a concept, not a prospect Just as the tide’s retreat at Hunstanston beach, where the bleakness of that coast is confirmed by gloom and grey Where the miserable shoreline recedes to a place… Read more
-
On August XIII
What beauty there is in this light Sun now warm on the back, face, bared limbs Yet longer shadows stretch out, reach into the sultry corners Strong, solid darkness with steel-sharp edges From squinting low brightness to peering black Shapes seen, perspective unclear until too close Branch tip, bramble sharp, thorn lance I must guard… Read more
I write as I wonder as I wander.
Journey of Words 