Driving westward
Stark trees are inked along the hills
At sinking of the sun
And in its wake the dusk is pink
A blush upon the land
Where vines in lines stretch far and wide
Notation on the staves
Singing of cinnabar songs
A vapour trail all molten gold
Is seamed across the blue
And rising now the chalky moon
At sinking of the sun
Stark trees are inked along the hills
At sinking of the sun
And in its wake the dusk is pink
A blush upon the land
Where vines in lines stretch far and wide
Notation on the staves
Singing of cinnabar songs
A vapour trail all molten gold
Is seamed across the blue
And rising now the chalky moon
At sinking of the sun
20th October 2010, Hounoux, for Gill and for Susan, who opened my eyes
Thanks Sally, I have been waiting for a poem.
ReplyDeleteLovely words - missed you on Tuesday.