A bonus poem today, for JD Mader’s 2minutesgo
writing exercise on his blog, Unemployed Imagination. His website is open all
weekend, so head over there to write or read, give feedback and get some. Have
a groovy weekend! 😊
Oak and moor
In this uncomfortable dark
Stands this bowing bark,
An echo of itself within,
Standing in line to deliver
The language of leaves.
Wind rustling, aged crone.
A stranger trudges this moor,
Carrying the mist on his back,
Feet crunching wildflowers.
The sun will not rise today.
Dusk will play a lone chord
And this oak might straighten
In happenstance to recite
The passing of this man
On this night on this moor.
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, July 3, 2020
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