The stubble fields

        The stubble fields

        are a pen and wash in early morning light.

        Distant wild bamboo crosshatch pale sun

        sown with frost

        the fields stretch wide and white.

        Old wire and fallen posts a fence undone

        a wedge of pigeons

        finds something here to peck

        amongst small stone and stalk

        a sorry crop.

        A rabbit twitches in the dawn’s cold pick

        and down the contour of hill hot stink of fox.

        Winter has its way with curve and line

        the old geography of distance crossed

        the fallow fall of ground leaves all behind

        and yellow air is bleached with harvests lost.

        The hours stitched with stillness cannot last

        while hatless

        the swinging silent day goes past.

These poems are from my new collection IN THE APRICOT DARKNESS (view the cover and contents below in my recent posts). They are now being published individually, daily under 'recent posts' on my blog and will be available shortly as an eBook that can be read online or downloaded for free.