New form no edits like writing on the sea floor it swims and unfocuses. I can’t really see what I’m doing but can’t do nothing. Apologies if I don’t reply tp comments.
They were there in the dark of the last evening
lying in the tansy beneath the willows
a hind and her young pne.
Not chased away by the deluge this morning
nor overly bothered by me or dog. hours they’ve ambled back and forth along the stream beneath the trees
Do they know there is nothing in this corner to fear?
No man no gun and baying dogs?
Young one frisks and leaps after high branches
uncaring of rain men dogs
and the turning of the year.
A words a turn of fphrase a buzz of bee
I see a blur of waterworks a stream trickling
from the front of the skull and the trars weep from the sky
a steady heavy plod of grey
is this what will be for months to come?
Underfoot tje daùp is shiny bright with sun fragments
after even the clouds tire and fall apart
and we walk among the treacherous slipperies
hoping not to fall me and dog who sees but hears nothing.
I will be the ears, he the eyes
and he drags me racing up the grassy path
in his head still a steeplechaser.
New form no edits like writing on the sea floor it swims and unfocuses. I can’t really see what I’m doing but can’t do nothing. Apologies if I don’t reply tp comments. They were there in the dark of the last evening lying in the tansy beneath the willows a hind and her young pne. … Continue reading Poetry for the (half) blindRead MoreJane Dougherty Writes
