Gazing On Jelly Ear Funguses
M
Mark Heathcote
0
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Your heart has a tranquil spot, in a shadow,
a place in which I too would come and sit
gazing on jelly ear funguses - sallow
beneath, ancient elder tree boughs and midst.
The river silver that zigzags—slithers
through an opening of soft pine needles
scattered on either bank—withers
grasses sun-scorched, once emerald—enfeebles.
The sound of which reminds me of the heat
we bathed away in meadows primrose.
Rolling as field mice entwine; bittersweet.
Odd, how memories cling to their blindfolds.
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