Posts by briancronwall

Dusk at Preston Montford

By on Mar 17, 2019 in Poetry | Comments Off

  Shropshire, England, 1983 First, the silence. Then, the green of poplars in a row like a solemn waiting chorus, motionless. The wood-and-wire fences, brick wall: borders marking edges. A silent Severn, wet line seen through boughs. At first. Then, the leaves at the top of poplars, waving in a slight breeze. Fresh cow dung, dried dung, green grass, dry weeds. Purple and white flowers. A wildness uncontained by fences. Down the path, shadows of dusk lead on to the River. The Severn moves in a gentle way: an angler’s plunk, the call of a pigeon, ripples of far-off cars, ferns...

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By on Jan 20, 2019 in Poetry | Comments Off

She tells me it’s like the halos of saints preceding the onset, then a nightlight too bright to endure.                                             Rolled up in old sheets the color of fever and a blanket as blue as cobalt, she shades her eyes from as much of the world as she is willing to acknowledge.                         Her words are pained, careful as feet near the deteriorating half-way crumble on the Kalalau...

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