Changing seasons in the absence of Ted Hughes
By wheeler
Sun, 12 Sep 2004
- 810 reads
The changing seasons in the absence of Ted Hughes
Trees become wizened
Birds head for the horizon
A dark lull descends
The snow shudders down
Onto the ice-bitten ground
Lost birds are screaming
Fresh star-twinkle dew
The crisp air of something new
Spring is here at last
Skies set on fire
By the swallow of summer
Ted Hughes still looks on
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