Sunday 23 October 2011

The line of communication


Devoid of colour
There was no time to the day
When Crow broke the silence,
One black communicant
In a Wide Land
With only three trees,

Crow croaked:
Meditate on your gray ghost,

And away he flew
Disappeared
Into the fog and the silence,

Left only some trace
Of the flesh
From the Roadkill.

gw2011/

4 comments:

  1. fog and silence - sounds like lincolnshire

    ReplyDelete
  2. It's a bleak spot. My sister lived there.

    ReplyDelete
  3. thanks, John - it's that time of year again - at least here

    ReplyDelete

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