Thursday, 10 October 2013

Green Man in Rocombe

I saw a Green Man fleetingly,
standing close by the farm-shop barn.
The height of a tall hawthorn tree
and dappled in the rising sun.
For that bird song moment he stopped
(as early morning vapour cleared
to tangle round the bramble tops),
then looked my way and disappeared.

Not wistful at the summer's cease
the gentle closing of the year,
but smiling in a hat of leaves,
garlanded with rose-hip and sloe,
he vanished like a startled deer
- or wet mulch under early snow.

Reading here:

Published on Three Drops From A Cauldron 17/6/2015

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