Elevated calendars celestial

by T.P. Wilkinson / March 8th, 2020

Borderers

Under
trees standing oaken
fed seeds freely
like bread is broken
between borders
from sleep awoken
On the nose
mist to feel
moisture escaped
old cloisters real
to orchards green,
tense and sparce
winding breezes
chasing woes
year’s beginning
fears ending
tearless touching
claws and toes
finding ease
behind heaven’s screen.

T.P. Wilkinson, Dr. rer. pol. writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is author of Unbecoming American: A War Memoir and also Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..

This article was posted on Sunday, March 8th, 2020 at 8:02am and is filed under Poetry.