SEPTEMBER AWAKENING (in the Stour Valley)

I wake in the drunken, first light.

Heady in the peppered acres of the sky

is redness.

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Lawns are crowing out of night,

the red-roofed stable rising,

lower at this hour

than moon – flint shadows sleeping there

like shaded continents of maps.

A rich, wild blueness heavies

and apples the sun

in hoards, in autumn

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rising from the river, mists of perch and roach.

These chickens rushing to the opening of windows!

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What do you think?


Written by Jonathan Finch

Years Of MembershipStory MakerContent Author


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    • Suffolk, though it was almost forty years ago now! I still remember the beauty of that river. Am I right about Suffolk? I think so. Does the Stour run through Dorset, too? Suppose so. (Too lazy to go to Google!) Many thanks for your interest.

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