For the dverse prompt.


Each gust tears a little more of the scenery,

plucking dry orange-peel leaves, one by one

from windy branches, sending them fluttering

like small brown birds.

There were orioles in the trees once,

now robins lord it about the woodpile,

bramble patch shrinks where persistent donkeys graze

And the fox rambles after dark,

and the owls drift in the night,

here and there,

like ships lost at sea.

Morning comes, sometimes misty,

sometimes frosts crunch a bit more of the summer

and we forget how green was green.

Sky rolls in a kaleidoscope of cloudy colours,

where the moon drifts in the daytime,

and the sun wraps itself in pale veils.

No moment is the same as the one before,

no bird flash of wings or fluted call.

Just blink and the little red deer is gone.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

48 thoughts on “Moments”

  1. Brief yet pregnant with change, and laden with outstanding word-smithing; loved this gem–liked the line /and we forget how green is green/ & leaves dropping like,e brown birds & all of it; smile.

  2. No moment is ever the same, I agree ~ Even after all these years, sunrises and sunsets are beautifully unique to me ~ I specially love your line: we forget how green was green.

  3. The pacing in this is lovely – the slow almost aimlessness in the winter landscape – ‘And the fox rambles after dark, /and the owls drift in the night, /here and there,’ – and then that fantastic fast last line. So good.

    1. Thanks so much, Peter. I’m getting a touch of the Emily Dickinson’s—no outside influences since we’ve moved here, just watching, observing and now, like the wildlife, trying to keep warm!

  4. That’s a fantastic opening line, Jane, and the leaves being plucked one by one from windy branches remind me of my garden. I especially love the robins lording it about the woodpile and the drifting owls like ships lost at sea!

  5. Very lovely poem, although I’m not on best terms with foxes this week. They dug up all my potted winter-flowering plants overnight. Beasts.

      1. Must be something in the soil that attracted them. They only went after three pots though, and I used the same soil for all the pots. Very strange.

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