November 10, 2025Poem
The Eleventh Day.
lossnaturecitytimemortality
The Eleventh Day.
A time of poppies
In profusion
Petals tumbling
Dripping blood red
Rivers flow endlessly
Muddied in shallows
Stick-dried in hot sun
Snapping like twigs
Brambles are prisons
Organic barbs
Tearing at soft
Puppy-dog skin
Digging deep
Wicked claws
Holding tight
Laying claim
To reckless trespassers
Itinerant vagabonds
Surprised ramblers
Sporting vacant expressions
Press-ganged innocents abroad
Bumptious Colonel Bogey’s
Burning bridges
Footslogging
Backpackers
Whistling out of tune
Forever autumn
Until christmas