5.5.2014 – sitting in the heather

by deanmelbourne

blind today
Blind to the flitting of finch
Blind to the heather and the wet leafed spring

Behind, backdrop deep,
A arching curtain of birch
Irregular pine sprawling with shadows beneath its boughs

Beyond there, watchful and still
Peering sentinel like,
A spectre that lurks with intent
He is the uncertain, the feared truth,
The dead standing among the new born.
The charcoal tower of burned birch.

And I see the bloody nose beetle walk across my palm

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