written by: Jenny Middleton
The plough’s metal ribs are turned to the sky. Rust flakes in fingernails from the iron core of abandoned machinery amongst the unmown grass sprung with daisies and summery warmth. Flattened clouds rule the sky, pulled taut as clavichord strings that hum with a storm’s jigger at the afternoon and its wobble of espaliered peaches.
We run barefoot with the children, laughing, circuiting the field, drunk with exertion, feeling the rub of damp roots fleck with the music of first rain.
blue sky to numbers
rain blurs us
Jenny Middleton's poems have been published in various printed anthologies and online sites. Jenny studied English Literature and Drama at university and went on to study a postgraduate degree in education to qualify as a teacher; she is now a working mum. Her poems are often drawn from real experiences or inspired by artwork.
Latest posts by Jenny Middleton (see all)
- I Think of Internet Trolls - February 28, 2023
- Nan’s Piano - November 30, 2022
- A Letter to My First Car - August 12, 2022