A mushroom poem, inspired by Applecap‘s long dozen
Fallen curate
Light from the dead stars glints from your stone pendant
It’s my turn I suppose to mourn the stars, and yours to sing
A map, with this note attached
Try to visit on a moonless night if you can swing it. Lie on your back in the Dandelion Meadow on the lip of Stardrop Basin on a moonless night, and sometimes the drifting seeds will play-act the long-ago star-drop for you.
Two long dozen poems
Mist smudges
And jagged screes seem as soft as the fens
A single blended brushstroke, sweeping to the basin
Mist smudges
And jagged screes seem as soft as the fens
A single blended brushstroke, sweeping us down the slope
2 thoughts on “Scapelock’s shelf”