the stone frog
on the window sill opposite
sports a frozen snow hoodie
lopsided it dribbles
a toothless hobo grimace
sycamore and chestnut
toss in the wind
clutch at the air
desperate
dead hands with parchment skin
cling to chimneys
my gloves, the colour
of autumn
float on a copper sea
of fallen beech leaves
miles of dappled lane later
stained glass sun fails to set ablaze
the hills behind the turbines
on Knabb Ridge
greyscale sky scuds in from the moor
first flakes blow
too soon to settle
melt like love in a hurry
trees, a little more bare than before
crowd, suck spaces closer together
hover twixt dusk and twilight
afternoon and evening
The chill exhilarates
inspires
I slip on a dead squirrel
fur blurred as bonfire smoke
an urban fox scuttles
through swept leaves
eyes like a luminous watch dial.
What did you think
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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i absolutely loved this
the feel, the texture, the smells, the sights
thank you for showing me these things and not telling me them
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greyscale sky scuds in from the moor
first flakes blow
too soon to settle
melt like love in a hurry
Sir Stef, you always take me away to a place where I thought I could never experience and I experienced the feeling of being there with your writes.
Anna Lee
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Hello Anna,
Thank you -It is wonderful how we can experience each other's worlds through poems , isn't it. My world is grey, your always seems so exotic to me.
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you got me from the stone fog to the urban fox, eyes like a luminous watch dial. As I sit, post-fire here, with vivid images of ash and scorched trees and burnt out homes, I am walking also into your poem eyes. Your vivid vision of the seasons shifting captures the reader so well. I simply love the kindness given to
"my gloves, the colour
of autumn
float on a copper sea
of fallen beech leaves"
and
"trees, a little more bare than before
crowd, suck spaces closer together
hover twixt dusk and twilight"
the chill does inspire you
and
now me, I shiver with in the air of your words, the first flakes, that melt like love in a hurry. but your eye is not hurried.
your time with this is worth everything.
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Hey Kat- we were thinking of you when we saw the fires on the tv.
Thanks for coming by here- it is a while since I tried any new poems, so I'm glad you liked this.
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This is wonderful writing. I was genuinely surprised I would be slipping on dead squirrel at the end because it is something that I would have written – either that or plonking the reader’s size nine into a steaming mound of wolfhound droppings. But as I was reading it, as with much of your writing I think what a beautiful individual you are. There is a care within the writing that I truly envy. I write like I have a train to catch or I am about to abandoned my words to a slave trader. You have a compassion that permeates the read and an understanding that not all life works out but there is no reason you cannot describe it beautifully in the meantime. I thought this was a wonderful piece.
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I don't know what to say, David, apart from thank you so much for your kind words, but mostly taking the walk with me and understanding it.
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I like it
it has an orange glow attached to it
like a fliter, even if you mention grey clouds
are you sure about the line "life and death"?
i'm not sure
the whole poem points to it
or more likely to the interlude sipped by an outside witness; in awe of course, and aware to record it.
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I think you are right. The line was an afterthought, and I am not sure either.
Thanks-
I had intended to photograph the sunset behind the turbines, but it wasn't to be. By the time I walked there, in time for sunset, the clouds had rolled in, but one for the ditty box formed instead to record it, so thought I might as well chuck it down. -
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the dusk colors are dominant
at least that's how I perceive it
imagination cares less about the clouds
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Loaded with vivid imagery, this. No need for photographs.
I hope that was a frog ornament, not a real frog, all frozen.
I will come back to give this piece the proper comment this - ahem- ditty deserves. It's gorgeous. Damn those cloud banks!
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yes- a stone garden gnome type frog it is.
Thanks Cous. Back to the novel now ,aye. -
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look at that, turned my back for three minutes, and you've changed it. And for the better. Yes yes, must go. Already a call came in and there are visitors coming this afternoon. ACK.
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