Snow Covered
From the Blue Book
autumn chill
a snow covered
horizon 753 and
winter horizon
the chill snow
covers all
new moon
the crickets call
just the same 755 and
finding
the brightest star
curlews call
winter rain
all day the rattle
of downpipes 756 and
in curls
the winter rain
fireside dog
morning frost
yarrow flowers
missing 760 and
morning frost
an absence
of yarrow flowers
full moon
gate latch
left undone 761 and
waiting
for the moon
open gate and
I open
the gate to let
the moon in
the moon
outside
my door
moonrise
passing through
branches 763 and
winters day
moon through
the trees
men stop work
warming their hands
on mugs of tea 764 and
smoko
steam from
mugs of tea
falling snow
sky the colour
of irises 765 and
wire fences
decorated
with snow
as leaves
swirling and dropping
sparrows 770 and
flurry of wax eyes
against the window
the first lesson
fetching wood
under the pile
a flower 771 and
wood pile
holds a keepsake
pressed flower
drab winter day
lawyers in suits
merge with it
swaying
in the breeze
bead of dew
Mapara Road
no poison dart frogs
around here
cold back
a face
full of stars
tea cup
steam on
my breath
not let down
summer afternoons
in splendour
ageless stars
beneath the crown
of despair
© Steven Clarkson 2015
From the Blue Book
autumn chill
a snow covered
horizon 753 and
winter horizon
the chill snow
covers all
new moon
the crickets call
just the same 755 and
finding
the brightest star
curlews call
winter rain
all day the rattle
of downpipes 756 and
in curls
the winter rain
fireside dog
morning frost
yarrow flowers
missing 760 and
morning frost
an absence
of yarrow flowers
full moon
gate latch
left undone 761 and
waiting
for the moon
open gate and
I open
the gate to let
the moon in
the moon
outside
my door
moonrise
passing through
branches 763 and
winters day
moon through
the trees
men stop work
warming their hands
on mugs of tea 764 and
smoko
steam from
mugs of tea
falling snow
sky the colour
of irises 765 and
wire fences
decorated
with snow
as leaves
swirling and dropping
sparrows 770 and
flurry of wax eyes
against the window
the first lesson
fetching wood
under the pile
a flower 771 and
wood pile
holds a keepsake
pressed flower
drab winter day
lawyers in suits
merge with it
swaying
in the breeze
bead of dew
Mapara Road
no poison dart frogs
around here
cold back
a face
full of stars
tea cup
steam on
my breath
not let down
summer afternoons
in splendour
ageless stars
beneath the crown
of despair
© Steven Clarkson 2015