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Sandgrains<\/p>\n <\/strong>1 2 3 <\/p>\n Mark Rutter<\/strong>\u2019s poems have appeared in many magazines and anthologies, including Other Poetry, Magma<\/em>, Interpreter\u2019s House<\/em> and London Magazine<\/em>.\u00a0 Two collections of his poems appeared in the US, where he lived from 1990-2002: The Farmhouse Voices<\/em> (Puckerbrush), <\/em>and water fir rook hand<\/em> (Tatlin).<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Sandgrains 1 At the hour of long shadows, the sun lights up the crown of the oak. As Bash\u014d lay dying, he told how his soul still wandered the withered moor, startled by the sound of a stream. 2 In the field, snow lit by starlight, hollow stalks tick in the wind.\u00a0 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6361","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6361","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6361"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6361\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6364,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6361\/revisions\/6364"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6361"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6361"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6361"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nAt the hour of long shadows, the sun
\nlights up the crown of the oak.
\nAs Bash\u014d lay dying, he told how his soul
\nstill wandered the withered moor,
\nstartled by the sound of a stream.<\/p>\n
\nIn the field, snow lit by starlight,
\nhollow stalks tick in the wind.\u00a0 Overhead
\na plane bound for the distant cities
\nwrites its fading sentence.\u00a0 The moments,
\nlike frozen apples, cling to the branch.<\/p>\n
\nOctober woods, full of burning houses
\nand disconsolate music.\u00a0 A wing made
\nof many feathers, that is one second.
\nAnd one minute \u2013 a flock of song sparrows
\nmigrating into skies of forgetfulness.
\n <\/p>\n