Today’s choice

Previous poems

Hannah Ward

 

 

 

Under The Plum Tree
Look, Drew, the
plums are in
pieces beneath
us. I dreamt:
you let the
sweet ones rot
at the bottom
of your pocket,
sagging like
the canopy.
Hannah is thirty feet long in a field of dandelions, waving hello.

Jim Paterson

A Tuesday morning in November
out on the street taking in the bins.
As a flight of crows flashed past
the street lights went out.