Reeds

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Reeds

Reeds bend across
an inky black pond.
Harking to a story
Of lost time
and sunken treasure.

They bend and whisper
together,
reminding themselves
to hold their secret fast.

A thin veil of mist
hides the surface of the
water. A crow’s
caw penetrates the darkness.

On guard the sentinels
murmur as night
draws close, they know
how to keep it buried.
Hush, hush!

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Afternoon Walk

With each plodding foot against
the gravel I strain to hear
your voice.
Can I hear your heartbeat
over this slow, rhythmic,
crushing sound?
Perhaps you’re in the wind,
rustling high in the trees?
The rugged, rusting, yellow digger
stands for progress.
Its windscreen
is now cracked.
Some local youths perhaps.
What is progress anyway?
And now I’m reminded
that all you want
is a willing heart and a
life completely surrendered
to your will.
I make my way home.

Poppies

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Poppies

Turning the corner
in an old oak wood;
we alight upon a small clearing
where light pours in
straight and columned.

What greets us is another world
of undiscovered beauty
and unearthly stillness,
as though this chance
encounter was preordained.

In the background
a warbler chatters
and the yellow wheat
brings the unnecessarily
red and vibrant poppies
to the fore.