This poem is taken from Poetry Nation 6 Number 6, 1976.
A September RisingI nearly saw them this morning.
There was rust in the beech leaves,
The branches were twisted and nude, grey
In the glistening from a blue that stretched
The subtlest, the finest of frosts.
They were there in that air,
Faintly cheeping, chittering a white
Web in the blue. Changing and staying still.
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue'.
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 282 issues containing over 11,400 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 282 issues containing over 11,400 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
