Out again in sun,
drinking a coffee
my daughter made me,
laced with peaty whisky,
warm in a jumper,
wearing my hat
cocked against the glare,
blackbirds easy with me
under bare
apple boughs there
in the lush green grass,
finding food -
male skittish,
female bold and fat.
It's a summer sky speeded up,
hurling little white clouds across,
yet down here breeze tickles.
Here comes another wave of grey:
the coffee is drunk
the poem is written.
.................
YOU ARE READING
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...
