After the shoot

No moon the night no sun the day
between grass and cloud is water light
colours faded old postcard grey.

No sound except the soughing trees
beneath their boughs the caged birds lick
their wounds and huddle waiting

for time to tick and tock
in the pock of raindrops
for the numbing ache of fear and foodlessness

to stop.

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.

14 thoughts on “After the shoot”

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