A Glimpse

Screen_shot_2017-12-05_at_08.50.24by Patrick Howse26 Aug 2017

Clouds shade away
To horizons that echo
Waves of dream-blue woods.

Through soft fields
And light drizzle
A horse is running,

Its head defined
Pale by chestnut flanks,
Letting me see

Beneath, to history,
To bare bones,
Bared teeth, and a horror

Stare of recognition:
We do to them
What we do to us.

The receding greys
Drag me towards
An England we’ve lost.