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


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.