goslings (Remove filter)
Five Goslings
Fledging at the speed of light
They patter like tap-dancers
Banqueting on chick-crumb
Soon, stately as Aldermen, and
Ripping at grass like tigers
They'll face into the rain
Abruptly the salad days will end
No more feinting at the post-man
Come Christmas they'll hiss in vain
Wednesday 29th April 2020 11:19 am
Recent Comments
Bethany Sallis on Haiku; illegal loggers.
2 hours ago
R A Porter on Bungalow Dreaming
4 hours ago
prakhar dhama on The indefinite sentence
6 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Treacherous Tattoo
6 hours ago
Landi Cruz on The indefinite sentence
7 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on FOLLY'S FOOL
7 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on FOG at SEA
7 hours ago
M.C. Newberry on I Remember Joy
8 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Final visit? ( fictional )
8 hours ago
M.C. Newberry on Bungalow Dreaming
8 hours ago