All words, absurdbut the furrows in the fields are linedwith thistles and with dandelions,with cow-parsley and campions. Birdsong moves mewithin the leafy canopybeneath the hum of bumblebeeson such a day, so let it be. Starlight stretches over the fields and etchescreation myths in constellationsechoed in stone. Perfumed trackwaysspill heady scents on summer daysbeneath the pregnant... Continue Reading →