December ditch


a day of early sun
and from a distant tree
the thrush’s song
and everywhere the singing water
running running running

ripple song from bird throat
and ripple sun on water
and grass waving
from silver ditch depths
that yesterday were crisp with frost

East field frost


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.

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