Standing by a Gate, Near Church Farm
written by: Julian Mann
The silence that exists.
My mind slow like dung heap smoke.
The moon’s siren
Chaffinch sing me my sight,
Down a track.
Just because I turn away from car
Just means I’m shy.
And I turn again.
The stillness that exists,
Of a billion, brought to bliss,
Pearls-at-head.
You wonder,
For someone who can discern
People,
On the Beacon-top
Must have its share of hells.
The night will be misty,
You have seen it born.
I daydream of a teacher’s new robe,
Of January Saxon blue.
The book of illuminated evening.
31, from Buckinghamshire, England. Edits Jumper Poets Press - a poetry journal on Instagram.
Latest posts by Julian Mann (see all)
- The Rectory - June 26, 2023
- Frankpledge - January 25, 2023
- Spotlight On Writers – Julian Mann - December 3, 2022
