
My Thoughts Are Bared and Lost
to amber flares of bracken, there
in the deep floodwaters
of last night’s storm, a moment snared
on the heather heaths and meaty petrichor,
crows fly the low wintered sun, and
you and I are lost in the New Forest
where air owns the sounds of church bells
and the hued views of the River Itchen.
Written for Miz Quickly’s Day 22: EZ Rhyme. The image is my own: The River Itchen. Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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