Thursday, 9 April 2009

Bleasdale Haiku

pink moon
the plashing of the brook
from the dark fells


onto my fingers the rust of the farmyard gate


on the lower slopes
of Parlick, a cock pheasant
flusters into flight


between fields of hares my shadow runs with the s-bend


heavy going
through the waterlogged field
clay-pigeon shards

2 comments:

Frank Williams said...

A very nice set Matthew, each one with a genuine feel of immediacy...

jem said...

Nice series. I especially like the one liners. That rust one is super, it's almost like a kiss, leaving a trace of lipstick.