from Laynie Browne - "A Mullein Sceptre in My Hand"

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Doorstep, in her arms
an owl slept

Windmill modder cry
a drifting herd

an' road so steep
rasped the tale again

Bring home sheep

Entrammelled gambler
sorrow marble diurnal


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Murmur of old stone
yellow water

Cross no mill

arms of darkness

No matter which primrose
rondel

Poppies doorways
browse


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Yearneth
violet blows

turf comeliest
on a higher hill, ransom

Dogwoods starry
fell in flocks

Crooned bower
Canst thou conjure?


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