Poems from underneath – 19th December 2020

The crow rises
and falls away
with the stars.



The gates closed
around the sun.

With the stars
and fir trees.

The evening
of pink light and leaves.



The crows and seagulls
across the fields.

Their island of light.



You are good,
the newcomer said.

Which, of course,
means drowning.

But, still,
you chew on his words.


Author: Workers' Archive

Covering sensitivity at work and beyond on my website: https://samuelaliblog.wordpress.com/

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