From the hill

You may have noticed I’ve been a little quiet of late but there are reasons- valid ones I swear. One project about to come to final fruit and another setting roots and casting branches out to sun.

So without further ado, fresh from the clear air and clifftop raw of Springbrook, a draft-fresh piece from the verse novel project. Feedback -as always-  is welcomed.

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From the hill

each day now wakes us darker
than the last, each rumour of a
dying sun now thinning, a sky
now growing tumourous and thick.

how lost we are, these days of ash
now casting leeward to the shore,
to have come back now, to here,
where you went out, and out, and out.

where now, between the waves
I see you, rising as a shadow, myth
swimming with the tide to shore,
to granite broken as the line of me,

to where I see you now, a ghost
returning as a metaphor,
as an ache of rising water,
a stone now swelling in my throat.

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