Thursday, 6 September 2012

Old Pathways

Old pathways.
Droves subsumed
scabbed
with blankets
of undulating
tar through
clover fields
ox-bow rivers
pleasing
as a picture
in a child's
pop-up book
asking
for the probing
of a child's fingers.
Greenish clouds
shape a tunnel
suggestion
of motion
liquid, airy
wingspan
to stop
the breath
us in
our
tracks.

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