The Stretching Miles
Stars and ships,
sails and shrouds,
the evening rests
upon passing clouds,
and above,
the moon rises,
high and slow,
upon the hills
and stretching trees,
as October bows
to the season,
summer’s left,
September’s leaves.
And across the silence
the ploughed fields,
and beyond
a pointing church
along the empty lanes,
where shadows
gather and the wind
passes, whispers,
along the lonesome lines
of telegraph wires,
invisible and restless
Orion stands
tall,
proud,
massive
guarding the seasons
the stretching miles.
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p1964km@googlemail.com
