Pages

Wednesday, 17 May 2017

At The Start Of Day

Frost on trees, every limb
Every tentacle, every branch
Every non-linear metre

The artist may paint & pastel
Or the photographer might fix his still
But I will write; for the feel
Of the six o clock mornings
Is almost too dark to see

Only the sounds
Of the partridge and pheasants
Echo, to bring on, to serenade
The entrance of the day


available here for kindle