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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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Poem © Mabel Ferrett, 2000 Photograph © Gerald England, 2000 Web design by Gerald England This page last updated: 12th November 2006. |