On the railway-edge of
The borders of town,
January’s watchman lowers
Industrial warehouse evening shutters
On a wet gone-along day.
The dandelion string of streetlights
Splutters weakly at the darkness.
Beyond the last houses
A cold-feathered owl
Moths through the cold
And the steady, wide
Slow-motion lightning beams
That roll out from the full moon
Spread over calm, quiet
New-ploughed fields like the
Copper and diamond dreams
Of rare-frost spiders.
Garden Blog of the Year 2016
Welcome to my world: digging, harvesting and other stuff
for your family
The evolution of an old farmhouse, an American woman, an Englishman and their dog.
If you could go anywhere you wanted, where would you be headed right now?
boots of salt and plow blades
blowing through the cobwebs of my mind
Just another WordPress.com weblog
Writing the Wrong, Right, and Ridiculous
... it's all about feelings ...
Life after the Care Farm
The most Dangerous plant to sleep under is the water lilly
Local History for Great Wyrley and Surrounding Areas
Tales from the mouth of a wolf
introspection & reflection, poetry & prose
Posts about old Hollywood, current concerns
“a cold-feathered owl” spreads his magic wings. Every line is its own poem. I love it.
I agree with theEnglishProfessoratlarge….
each line is filled with magick to write a poem or story in our minds…
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