A liitle new poem titled Bickleigh. Maybe you've been there?

Bickleigh

Who told?

The lady sipping earl grey at the railway?

The woman photographing the arch under the road?

Any one of a cluster of frogs hanging out in marshes by the Exe?

The darkened figure in the estate agent’s car (next to the gravel heap)?

A deerstalker sinks on my brow -

Bickleigh is a state of spooks.