A poem from my new collection
Here is a poem from my new 2015 collection, Come To Pass.
www.michaelwthomas.co.uk
Lake
Swans chaperone their majesty,
haul sun-shells in their wake,
tune the grace of entrance
through invisible arches.
haul sun-shells in their wake,
tune the grace of entrance
through invisible arches.
Moorhens fare out to willow islands,
warm the farers of the coming year
on lying-in beds
hulled miraculous from dross and switch.
warm the farers of the coming year
on lying-in beds
hulled miraculous from dross and switch.
At the edge,
black apples vibrate into coots
who skip and zag
like gabardine men dodging rain,
who topple in, tiny drunks
assured that each fall has its pillow.
black apples vibrate into coots
who skip and zag
like gabardine men dodging rain,
who topple in, tiny drunks
assured that each fall has its pillow.
Their splashes
rouse the lake to its dimensions,
thread bank to bank
in echoes like a secret name
told once and tucked away
as a feather might fold
in a swan’s colossal shade
when the miles drum into its heart,
when it spreads upon the screes of wind
and beats down the world.
rouse the lake to its dimensions,
thread bank to bank
in echoes like a secret name
told once and tucked away
as a feather might fold
in a swan’s colossal shade
when the miles drum into its heart,
when it spreads upon the screes of wind
and beats down the world.
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