Hawthornden
Midway between bluff and brink,
I take care where I place my feet,
having learned life's slender path
threads sometimes through a narrow pass,
remembering the claustrophobic
crisis and its aftermath.
Where roseate scarps ease down to woodland,
mushroom sunspots metastase;
rolling pebbles on its tongue,
the headlong Esk goes reeling on.
The Lady Walk
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111110901805
Свидетельство о публикации №111110901805
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