November 2020

British Winter Time

The sky draws a line under lifeless cloudsas if the day is over:witch-green, layered timestepping meanly backwards,hiding the lightbehind jailer voiceswhile meadowed horses wait to be released and the promised hour is swallowedby grey land – old hoofprints heading plainly for…

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The wind and the rain

The wind again todayslithers and hisses like an angry snakethrough cracks and alleyways The limes and beeches bow before it,shedding their outer garmentsin homageas the rain falls and falls likeunstoppable tears You say: Grief comesin great gusts to blow you…

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