Inspired by the random word Oracle.


Looking for signs in the cold grass
ant-clamber through stalks
and roots hoof-scuffed and scraped

looking for bees
in unopened flowers
bats in frosty air

and the secret scented
air pockets of summer trees
beneath these black boughs.

Hope flies among the heavy clouds
grey as bombers limping home
over the dead horizon

swims the swathes of rippling branches
buds tight but longing to burst
in shoals of blossom.

It seems absurd to sleep
when the world is stirring
deep-earthed and restive

searching for a light so long
in piercing the wintry gloom
that makes a wild ocean of the sky

for pearls and sea glass glowing
with the memory of past summers
golden days silver nights.


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.

17 thoughts on “Hope”

  1. I can read this now that I’ve done mine. ๐Ÿ™‚ I agree with Kerfe.
    I love the wild ocean of the sky–that’s exactly it.

    We chose many of the same words, of course. I had secret scents but cut it.

    I’m not sure I know this Redon.

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