Charlotte’s Grandchildren



In the distance, below the horizon ridge

A honey coated horse is head down grazing;

At rest,  firm edged shadow leaning long

Down the gentle February slope.

It is nearly possible to hear the explosions

In the atomic heart workings of the sun –

On a day which balances preciously between

Passing winter and welcome spring…

And Charlotte’s grandchildren are

Taking to the joyful jester-hope skies.




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