Kemble Haiku

A frozen river.
The surface weight of deadwood
not yet broken through.

Where I used to work
is cleared ground, empty but for
snow-covered pallets.

The graveyard at Hook.
Each flower, living and dead,
holds fast to the earth.

Silver Street, Minety.
Its white commons and white lanes
closing behind me.

Kemble. Journey’s end.
The Thames starts here. It is ice:
the source stilled, silenced.

Swindon to Kemble, 24 December 2010

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