such a summer ripe with wetting fattened fruits primed for netting I saw the moon had grown mouldy dully grey and rumpled oldly cockies shrieking raucous, shocking days aprick with grass seeds, socking humid shroud of air that holds me ropes of rain plunging boldly pinned and damp as limping moth ‘neath the sky, its baritone wrath but I’m not at all complaining about the clouds, the cool, the raining I would happily every year enjoy the lack of fire fear
Looking Back
Published
Out of the Cave 
This poem has lovely rhythm…ripe with wetting fattened fruits sets the tone for this beautiful poem.
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love the fresh imagery of this esp the sound words: ‘baritone wrath’ stands out 🙂
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🙂. Thank you so much.
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A stunning poem. I could feel the humidity and rain
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Thank you. It all rose out of a mouldy looking moon. And a gladness that this summer is officially (if not actually) over and has been nothing like last summer.
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The rhyming scheme is so good too.
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I’m with you on this one alright! So good to not have bags packed ready to leave this summer, and the tanks and dam full.
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