1 Black cows graze at fence line young bulls, watching me bowl. Ball after ball after ball to one batter, an Opener. No one else arrived to face as I hit my stride bowling tall with movement barely two wides in it. Run-up timing perfect working on his weak-spot rib high, not quite leg. Sweat…
Tag: Autumn
‘Finding Harmony’
Autumn rain is determined to tap against the panes of your soul Defiantly strumming your hair in deep silent reflection: Now is moot For you are lost to wind’s clawing of this moment; gone like fallen fruit Oh detachment, you stole her from me; so easily that labour is done Time’s distance drifts,…