Sensorial, poetry by Henry Bladon at
Johnny McClung



written by: Henry Bladon



(with lexicographical apologies)


I look up at the trees from below
as rain falls gently on my skin

then the smell of the damp
on sun damaged turf

as the wind tugs my hair
like golden corn in the fields.

The distant cry of an eagle
feeds the tranquillity

so I close my eyelids
and think.

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