Drink to the dregs the
winter’s fracture and
sun’s terminal
stretch and
follow the snow-lined
Broughton Brook.
Fly south-west
over Beeches Wood
toward the receding of
a tide once
certain but
now a tired
unknowing.
– Jason Goroncy, March 2013
Hmmm….nice one!
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Mike, as my most constructive poetry critic,
I
hoped
that
you
would
like it.
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Wow…I’ve really gone up in the world! LOL. I only just caught it because I was looking at the piece on Low Sunday. I thought I’d signed up to get email notifications of your posts, but they haven’t been coming through. Will have to try again.
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