For the Secret Keeper’s weekly writing challenge. The words:
PART | LEFT | TREE | WET | NOTE |
What remains of those leaf green times,
Which part of me is left in the unstirred ashes?
No tree sways, no bird sings in the wind,
The notes fallen to the ground,
Rowan berries of oblivion
Picked, plucked crushed of all their juice—
Following the white hind through the tangled woods,
Did you not see how they were
Sucked into the mud,
the great bog of time?
This makes me think Jane with a dash of Yeats.
I really like that first line and rowan berries of oblivion.
Thank you! That was what was in my mind too. Hard not to think in flowery Gaelic given what I’m working on at the moment 🙂
I’m glad I picked up on it then. 🙂
🙂