Today’s haiku offerings were heavily influenced by a rather wild walk in the Kilpatrick hills, north of Glasgow a couple of days ago. The wind was courtesy of Storm Malik, and ensured that the first part of the hike was carried out at a 45-degree angle!
Buffet and billow.
Wind fingers dragged through heather.
Woody roots cling on.
Brackish water lays
In peat hollows, foot-formed.
Sky grey ripples stir.
Things I’ve read this week…
Perhaps it was the atmospheric bleakness of the Kilpatrick hills putting me in a certain frame of mind, but I found Wordlander’s article on Combe Gibbet a really engaging and informative piece. Her discussion of the murky truth behind the naming of such a grim spot was excellent.
‘Where Winter Lies‘ by Michael Erickson perhaps describes the same howling wind that so buffeted me north of Glasgow. There is some beautiful language in this poem, finishing with an ethereal, shivering line.
Matthew Richardson is a writer of short stories. His work has featured in Gold Dust magazine, Literally Stories, Close to the Bone, McStorytellers, Penny Shorts, Soft Cartel, Whatever Keeps the Lights On, Flashback Fiction, Cafelit, Best MicroFiction 2021, Writer’s Egg, and Shooter magazine. He is a doctoral student at the University of Dundee, a lucky husband, and a proud father. He blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com and tweets at https://twitter.com/mjrichardso0