Prose

Rhumour, 7 january 2012

The Beech Woods

Bluebells lay faded in the cool shade of the Beech woods
some seemingly crushed under wild stampeding hooves
when the spooked deer had rushed from a startling crack -
that of snapping twigs showing how clumsy those stalkers had been...

The pale green fronds of ferns were still uncurling in the (... więcej)