I’ve passed this slough everyday
on my walk around this country
block. It’s hard to ignore,
though I have, too busy
wading in my own marshy thoughts, until –
one day I see gold.
A blackbird with a bright yellow head.
I can’t resist. I stop to kneel, to be
still, to be one with the grass on the shore and
I look, I […]
Filed under: Diane Buchanan, Writing the Land by akublik Date 5 October, 2007
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There’s loneliness here today.
Tall stems of sedge chafe on unpredictable
breezes. A month ago the bulrushes
held dark heads high above the grasses, now
they are grey and moulting. Scent of tickle,
mildew and musk ride the surly air.
No green here, only a dry, wizened brown
beneath a sky feathered in clouds, the sun
struggling to warm the earth ─
to warm […]
Filed under: Diane Buchanan, Writing the Land by akublik Date 5 October, 2007
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