ghosts (Remove filter)
Burning
English summers, often damp, can invoke long stifling twilights
Nothing landbound needlessly moves
Contrails crayon across the sky
So many, this close to London’s hub
Distantly, the buzz of a low plane, pleasure rider reaching up
Into the realm of the starlings as they sussurate
A car comes past in the lane droning away round the curves
Here the runway cross remains
The old...
Friday 26th May 2017 2:08 pm
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