I’ve been writing poetry again recently, some themed around poisonous plants for a new project which is still very tentative and in the early stages, but also some themed around winter and snow and the shift of the season, as we had our only snow flurry this winter this morning. Here are a couple of the latest poems for your reading pleasure!
Slim girls climb the hills and
make love to the sunset once more,
storm winds removing their clothes and
the last light of day painting watercolour and salmon shimmer
over silvered skin and argent hair.
Their clothes lie, discarded on the ground and
toadstools jewel them, adornments for
the forgotten garments which
will soon become earth, or,
carried away by the wind, will become satin finery for lesser plants.
The cool air in the last dying light of day
strokes silver, pearl, spiderweb and diamond along smooth flanks,
rainbow sunset shades,
dark twig hair waving in the wind, singing,
chanting a song to the twilight.
The Language of Winter
Winter speaks a curious language,
one of exposed stone, bone and bronze,
the graceful arch of brambles and
blackthorn that pierces the sky
until it bleeds sunset across the horizon in
a torrent of red and gold.
Buzzards fly against storms,
and below, fields reflect
a thousand shades of iron and copper,
staining the land in mottled array.
Woodsmoke and rotting leaves
are the perfume of the day, and
pine, applewood, incense in the air.
Snow falls, and words
pare back even further –
silence in the cathedral woods.
Branches against the laden skies.
Bird tracks. Fox call.
Pheasant cries against the twilight.