Ploom #78
Ploom #078 Recovered Liane McKay A bee hums over jaggy tips of gorse.The ferns have unclenched their fists and they tickle me green as I pass.Clouds sweep the horizon, puffedas if the same crystallised breath we blew out at the year’s end. I remember staring from the windowthrough January grey at dead hillsides, mute and drainedof colour and […]