Sleep took her by surprise that afternoon|
and while she slept
the blackbird sang its heart out on a branch,
a lone dog barked
once only, and fell silent. It was June.
Sleep caught her by surprise, as though at play.
With garden scents
of rose and mignonette and gillyflower
a drugged content
deceived her senses, led her mind astray.
And through her sleep she still could hear the drone
of honeyed bees,
of minute insects quivering on the air;
she felt the trees'
dark roots strecth out in pleasure round the stone.
And while she drowsed, hundreds of miles away, where no birds sang,
battered by crash of missile, whine of shell,
on blackened sand
in grotesque attitudes the young men lay.
|Mabel Ferrett lives in Heckmondwike, UK, where she hosts Pennine Poets and is senior partner in the Fighting Cock Press. As well as books of poetry she has written extensively about the Brontės, especially their connections with Hartshead and the Spen Valley, and is in demand as a speaker. There are reviews of her books on NHI Review. Other work by the author can be viewed on Pickings (1) and Pickings (2).||
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© Mabel Ferrett, 2000
© Gerald England, 2000
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This page last updated: 12th November 2006.