Change
summer walks
garden paths
footprints of flowers
green dreams
wind-lisped grass
multitudinous tongues.
bright birds
morning bells
midsummer madness.
forced feeding
a million beaks
and bellies
cloudy morning
a chill in the air
rowan berries
bright yellow
little red faces
crab apples
bending branches
winter never far
fear of frost
always upon us
Many colourful but succinctly expressed images packed into your poem, Roger. You haven’t lost your touch.
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Thanks, Roland. I’m taking an online course in creative writing from U of Toronto. It is really helping me to focus on my writing. It’s a course on short story writing, but it has very useful segments on critiquing and word use. I’m still learning!
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I love you call them rowan berries, not mountain ashe. I once knew a dear little blood bay pony called Rowanberry. Have a happy Tuesday.
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I prefer the rowan tree: it has many magic connections within Celtic mythology. Mountain Ash was the scene of a mining disaster back in Wales in the sixties. I never feel the rowan is disastrous; rather it is so beautiful, year round. And in autumn, it fills with berries and birds.
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