Walking out on Easter Lane – poem for dVerse


I think I’m looking for something –
something to stitch me
to the world, the way the birds
stitch the hedge to the sky

I will drink the wingbeat of the swallow

or I’m looking for something
to carry with me
through the day

even today, the sky grubby
low overhead
trapping the sounds

who would have thought there’d be so many wrens?
suck it down, the warning call,
the zip trill song

and the sudden shock
of crows thudding
from the last ash

embla
ask

wood-pigeon fires bullets with its wings
heads out
sweep and glide
across the ploughed field
greening now
sharp spikes of life
in rows and squares and lines
geometry imposed
on the round roll of the land

scent of violet
and the first dog-rose

so sweet
so sweet

I’m stitched in place
slightly skewed

warning thud thud thud
rabbit sentinel
guarding the warren
home

drink that cool and clean

I’m stitched in
with fine running thead

lush green silk

faded string

tie the knot now
hold fast.

Anmol is hosting at dVerse, and he asks us to walk and observe. Take a walk, remember one, imagine one, and make a poem.

Walking – poem for NaPoWriMo

So if I were to walk,

just walk, my feet beating

a rhythm on the tarmac,

past the ground in gum,

and the dark stains,

and the shadow of the hedge

that is cut twice a year,

just walk, step by step,

one step and then another,

out of the town, away

from the grey road, onto dirt,

red dirt, brown dirt, black dirt,

my feet sinking a little

into the soft earth,

the good soil, and the grass

clinging just a little

as I brush through it,

and the sweet smell of it,

just walk, one step,

two steps, left, right,

pacing a rhythm,

swinging a rhythm

with my arms,

hearing a rhythm in my head,

and over the curve, to the sand,

soft and dry, and then firm

and then my feet sinking deep,

sole deeper, heel deeper,

would I remember to stop?