The day before the big snow
Out in the cold new woods
Her casket softened with feathers
She dropped under the forest floor.
Among the anonymous trees
(And, later there will be bluebells)
I tried hard to think of the dead
Instead of my freezing toes.
But now she comes back to me
Night by night, flake by flake,
Tumbling boldly into my eyes
Stung open by the brilliance of her-
Well, she was a trapeze artist,
Death dealt her a serious magic.
Now, in its slow reveal,
Here is the full wonder of her.
last post
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This blog was mainly about my time living in Madrid and my return to London
in 2010. I will not be updating or adding to it from March 2013.
I have started...
13 years ago
