A Winters Evening

Trudging through winter

The smell of a distant bonfire,

The call of a hunting owl,

The clang of an unsecured gate,

The midnight click of a text,

The yearning that was,

The burning that is,

The turning mill, rusted and squeaking,

Local poet/writer. ‘There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.’ E. Hemingway. All ©️DMM

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Local poet/writer. ‘There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.’ E. Hemingway. All ©️DMM

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