The corn is ripening
on the plains of Abram;
nut brown, waving,
combined, strawed,
dispatched.

On the canal bank,
Jimmy Ellis walks
the dog,
catching his breath,
to watch the fish rising
and
the skylark's lonely flight.

Back home,
Jean views
the empty pithead
and the greening slag,
lost in a time of chapels
and certitude.

Time has forgotten
Abram
and
Abram has forgotten time.
Just.

07/23/2005

Posted on 07/23/2005
Copyright © 2024 Peter Humphreys