When All The Trees Were Stirring & A Haiku – Grey Dreams

When all the trees were stirring,

when the mountains, resembling giants,

showed worlds prehistoric in dimension,

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clouds under peaks beyond man’s scope,

or possibility. Or, after the blackbirds had fought,

suddenly, a window opened, a woman called,

my name, or someone’s, boiling milk

to sterilise it. Always linnets, goldfinches,

in green upper-spaces, out of which

cuckoo, sparrow, skylark cloud

the mountainous air with calls.

So with prehistory : the enormous reptiles

champed their thrown-up worlds, and died.

I, hearing your voice, your love,

the window…opening, approach you, problematic heart,

the incredible world aglitter,

but sensing descent, mundane, long-faced, turning

I wheelbarrow-up the litter.


Grey dreams on ash in

A quiet train-station as

Time and people pass.

(Both poems from “The Light Of Day (I)”)



What do you think?


Written by Jonathan Finch

Years Of MembershipStory MakerContent Author


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