On the Kitleyknowe Road

frost shines,

splinters and sparkles
in headlights
on tarmac, fencepost, grass

and from the black thicket
a weasel darts,
white-tipped tail held rifle-high,

to silence-oh this blue-starred night.

previously published in Northwords Now,
the Eildon Tree and Child’s Eye

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *