Last Lune.
Harvester passes, buzzards
wheel over the stubbled cornfield,
waiting for death.
Tag: Lune
Daily poem: Lune 29
Earth bakes, clay,
dry, rock-hard, where snakes bask,
crisp grass underfoot.
Daily poem: Lune 28
Thrushsong billows, heat
ripples, ripe heads of barley,
crickets trill lulling.
Daily poem: Lune 27
Mowing today. First the buzzards arrive, then the kites. They swoop and plunge, but so far they haven’t caught anything.
Meadow mowing, slow,
watching the dash for life
like the buzzards.
Daily poem: Lune 26
Summer breaks loud
as storm and thunder rolling,
as frogs chuckling.
Daily poem: Lune 25
Dawn spreads gold
on the meadow, waking to
birdsong and dew.
Daily poem: Lune 24
Walking at evening
where bats flit owls call—
kind of peace.
