Daily, drearily, I pace this path. And now a precise
easterly interrogates the star-white aspens
richtering the ocean's tempest – the ash's
broken stumps resisting. No winds now
can stir the bones of this dead farm
and the ridge-back, grey-blacked means on which I tread,
step by slow step, into the ghostly dawning.
Shiny beads abacus the gates and the rose hips
shriek their silent scarlet into the dark.
Beasts grumble in the barns
and the low drizzle-mists come lower;
my ankle twists in the bleached grass.
I prop against the cold of a deserted monument
and feel a drop of rain – the way I take it in
and then breathe out;
how easily everything finishes, then starts.
Jim Lloyd was a winner in the Rialto "Nature and Place" poetry competition. His poetry has also appeared in The Rialto, bind and Green Ink Poetry. He is studying for an arts practice-based PhD at Newcastle University, considering the question "what is it like to be a bird?". He utilises a range of methods including writing, video and sound recording. He lives in Hexham, Northumberland.