Thoughts while walking home from the pub one recent night.

With thanks to Elijah O’Donnell for use of the header image. 

The imposition of tree
No more than
An afterthought
Sprouting
Roots rising
Protruding to crack
As invader
In the harsh white light
Of night . . .
Whatever happened to
That orange hue
Marmalade glow
Always warming
Mist on breath
Now matter how low
The temperature dared go
Even to ice
This way currently
Soft under foot
A brown carpet
Though not the normal
Dogged mines to avoid
Spent casings instead
Left by warriors
Vinegar soaked
Before hung in battle
These remnants
Kissing heat goodbye
With promise
Of new life
While reminding
Somehow
Of the gone
Especially those
Since the last time
Once hard spiky shells
Settled beneath me

To receive notifications of future posts of poetry—be they happy, sarcastic or sad—music history and reviews, the odd bit of this and that plus the occasional stab at promoting my books, please enter an email address below.