Glade II
April 2022
This moss-wrapped, blackened trunk has stood for years
Its silent vigil in this hollow glade.
Unnoticed in the dark it must have seen
Our young drunk-chuckling love that final night
And when our kiss-strewn striving slowed to sleep
It will have watched our fire gently fade.
This thought, I rest my palm upon the stump
And slow my mind and breath to woodland pace
And push the spirit of my hand out wide
Through roots that splay my fingers like a glove
To feel the earth in all its moist surprise
And catch that fading warmth before it dies.
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About me
I'm an Anglo-Irish web developer, father of five, company director and (evidently) a poet of sorts.
My inspiration comes from the beautiful Cotswold countryside I inhabit and explore,
the intricate mysteries of the people I have loved, and the daily miracle of being a living, breathing,
always changing consciousness – a point of view through which the universe looks upon itself.
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