Daily poem 42:

It sounds from the sound of gunshots that there is another ‘battue’ going on and some unfortunate animal is being exterminated.

 

This fragile peace

 

where bees drift and birds sing

and in the ripple of the stream, a free wind blows.

 

A mind set on death

a shadow on the edge

of these quiet places.

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.

13 thoughts on “Daily poem 42:”

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