Along the Margins | Poetry

Along the margins

of those great English, wind-brushed fields of barley

lay sunken streets,

the ringroads of rural Suffolk.

Here, where sun and moon rise and stare

at obsequious, nodding herringbone spikelets,

the countryside jostles and hums.

Amidst dog-eared booms

and weed-clogged culverts

and the shredded chaos of fly-tips innumerable,

fauna shuffles, hurried and unhurried.

A water vole snuffles,

slips from the cluttered hedgerow,

bubbles clutching thickset fur, feet scrabbling.

Dragonflies dart,

eye-slipped and iridescent,

hurrying to destinations unknown.

The sweeping fox,

the low-slung, lockjawed badger,

lords of the field, drink and pad away, their hunting undone.

Above, bats flit between shattered shards

of nighttime sky

whilst the always surprised owl

sits aloft, watchful for an unprotected scuttle

in the moonlight.

A rural cast, driven to pastoral peripheries,

centred for a while.

Thanks for reading folks. Recent short stories include ‘The Silver-Lined Ridge‘ and ‘A Shadow World‘.

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, Idle Ink, The Wild Word, Down in the Dirt, and Shooter magazine. He has a Professional Doctorate in Education. Matthew blogs at www.matthewjrichardson.com.