Open fires burn
Outside homes, while
Children favour disquiet over sleep.

 
5 o’clock darkness reminds the shopkeeper –
Run from the evening dogs,
Or fall with your brothers by the wayside.
 
 
Oak trees shed faithfully
Year upon year. Sorrowful eyes looking onward
Downward and with pity.
 
 
October blossom would cascade, were it not
For the state of the earth,
Hatred already seeded beneath.



* Dan Bowan lives in South East London and mainly write
prose/poetry, as well as short stories/flash fiction. He adds “I
have been writing for 14-15 years and work a day job to pay the rent.
I've also performed at The Poetry Society in Betterton Street and a
couple other places.”