Driving out to Bickerton,
dazzled through thorn hedges
sky slated with grey
upon a bed of cold blue,
smoke turbulent with grey-wisps,
ashen pillows lining the horizon.
On lee-side sunny banks,
in surreptitious stands
or splendidly flaunting
in the middle of a clodded field,
autumn in December
offers a leathern poignancy,
bronzed and browning.
As the wood rolls up,
dark under skyline,
their tarnished golds
among the reddish brush
and the patchwork evergreen,
dredged memories
acknowledge simply
every year is like this;
variety not conformity
surprises us - the deep
familiarity of a loved face.
A far hawk reveals herself a raven.
Saw-fringes past us,
flips and plays,
diving to her home-wood.
It is a dragon evening;
and from his long, low, oblate
and orange jaws,
the entire Western sky
is immolated.
................
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Winter Trails
PoetryWinter Trails is an album of my poems, journeying through late fall when the wire of the trees begins to dominate, till the end of January. After promoting it and it soaring to three quarter million reads, Wattpad unceremoniously dumped it. Here it...
