Colin Oliver
Two Poems
1
On the way home I stop
at the bridge, the river
rising as the snow thaws.
I am transparent : here
only water, and on
the castle mound the stone
wall like an animal
peering across white fields.
2
One year in three the hedge
behind our house is cut.
I go over to look
at the stumps, the piles of
ashes : just there, themselves.
A log felled years ago,
grown over with fungi,
velvet and luminous.
Page(s) 43-44
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