Nature Has Chilled My Bones

The morning sun
Is a wet, shaved peach,
I watch buzzards
And choke like a stranger.

Horses buck in the garlic rain,
Rabid foxes sprint into fence-posts,

I grab a moment from the runny sky,

I peel back my thoughts
And get lost in the skin.

Weasels dance hypnotic and lithe,
Weaving tight turns
And head-bending their prey,

Decaying hedgehogs
Float down streams,
Trembling pheasants
Cough up seed.

The clouds expand
And then tighten
Like a huge concertina,

I step forward and sink,
I taste the dew on my lips
And the soil on my tongue;

Yesterday was Tuesday,
Today is Thursday,

Nature has chilled my bones.

2 Responses to “Nature Has Chilled My Bones”

  1. I love the image that the phrase “garlic rain” conveys. Nicely done.

  2. lisadalrymple Says:

    Hello, my name is Lisa; from the U.S. I have a poetry blog as well. I really admire the organic imagery in this poem, especially the characterization of the morning sun as “a wet, shaved peach”

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