The Denigrators

Wistful is the way
that the shadows shore up to play
and the length of a baking day
is a minor balm that shines.

This bliss without the rain
assuredly contained
by the well that echoes my name
these small hands own all this land.

Figurative in all endeavour
yet they darken all the weather
and denigrate the ether;
this land holds no more sway.

A momentary fragment
lost to wind and time imagined
the well repeats my soft lament
in silence where the land fades.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s