Tuesday, 12 March 2013


If cornflake-tinted leaves were to descend in slo mo so slow
they might look as if stitched to the gauze-mist
infiltrating trees, could a singular wave continue
to break against the flow of a muscular river?

When six o’clock sunshine lays itself along the valley bottom 
the parish church clock clangs to proclaim it both
exemplifies the status quo and marks its evolution,
so stating one cannot exist without the other.

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