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
Henry is a writer of all types of fiction based in Somerset in the UK. He has a PhD in creative writing from the University of Birmingham and runs a writing support group for people with mental health issues. His work has been in entropy, 50WordStories, Bloodaxe, The Ekphrastic Review, thedrabble and FridayFlashFiction among other places.
Latest posts by Henry Bladon (see all)
- Yard - May 1, 2022
- Sensorial - June 10, 2021
- Daisy Chain - February 5, 2021