My Mother Lies Here Copyright Â© Owen Robin Davies 2011
My mother lies here, high up in the downs.
Just on the down side of up she rests,
in woods, amongst ransome and wild chives.
Hunting Cranes at Lakenheath Fen Copyright Â© Richard J Whiting 2011
The first crane we saw
Was a grey heron;
Masked, comic-book hero
Vintage Years Copyright © Richard J Whiting 2011
Barley tops blush,
Thinned by drought.
A cruel winter mocked
Before The Solstice Copyright © Richard Whiting 2011
June. The wheat heavy on the stalk
Grey-green, sea-whispers in the breeze.
Sunlight sweeps across the fields
Master Thatcher Copyright © Richard Whiting 2011
My father is a Master Thatcher;
I watch him leap up the ladder
Laden with Maris Widgeon Straw
Fires Of Memory Copyright Â© James Knox Whittet 2011
Reading by Paul Jenkins
You who once ploughed hedged Norfolk
fields which slope to the sea in blizzards
of gulls, found yourself in Bergen-Belsen
Suffolk Soil Copyright © Victor Weston 2011
You can drive out from Bury in any direction
and you have only to look
on the soil, the selig Suffolk soil
Jack Copyright © Richard Whiting 2011
This is the waiting-room
To which your life has shrunk.
An apprentice-coffin of a space