ploughed (Remove filter)
Mud
dusk in the copse is foggy, and after rain there's
mud, so you watch your step as rubber
boots kick life into the mess.
no rainbow
lights the ploughed churning, or stars sputter at such
perfect mire, it harks instead at
mad trenches, branches
dripping onto brambles sharp as barbed wire.
can worms survive this clay or do
gills get jammed as mouths and rifles did, each
...
Thursday 6th August 2020 1:47 pm
Recent Comments
Tim Higbee on Psychiatric Hospital
56 minutes ago
Hélène on Psychiatric Hospital
5 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Bethany Sallis
7 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Psychiatric Hospital
7 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Saturday Night and Sunday Morning
7 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Bethany Sallis
8 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Graham Sherwood
9 hours ago
Manish Singh Rajput on You
9 hours ago
John Marks on FOG at SEA
10 hours ago
Holden Moncrieff on Is it?
11 hours ago