Thursday 13 October 2011

Poem 32

still, still, still, the weather is ill
96, let it send a gift to an old beauty
the brass band echoes in the backyard
when the magnolias perfume, greats the evening star
the couple on the hill, stares at the mill
woody water bubbles, into the craftsman shop
a green lair, hidden secrets at the turn of the screw
when the nightingales greats the morning star