Between Christmas & New Year

by Tom Harding

Monday 29th August 2011 3:37 pm

 

 

The  frost is caught in cob webs 

Clung along the hedgerows,

The year is strung between

Christmas and New year and

I'm lumbering back to work,

With a clog of dead leaves

Beneath my boots.

The horses stand upright in the mist

Soundlessly watching me pass,

Long heads reaching outwards

Like something lost at sea.

Somewhere someone is 

Building a bonfire of leaves,

Trying to get an early start 

At closing the book,

But there is no way

To leap over this year of death,

The rotting skeletons

Have fettered the whole street,

Glutted the curbs

And sealed the drains,

Like torn out pages

Of yesterday's diary.

While the sky stays stone grey 

And the snow still won't come.