Verges

Here’s a link to a recent poem published on Caught By The River, a little celebration of roadside verges and all they’ve meant to me over the years.

‘Here I learned to thrive
full as cow parsley, ripe
as roadkill bursting sweetly
in teeming hedgerows. 
These were the places 
I first alighted into the world,
on trips to the crossroads
and beyond, the garage shop
already slumped into lichen
and ivy, where I would buy
bars of chocolate and return 
along the same wild edges,
where belladonna beaded
and brambles yawned whitely.’

Read the full poem here.

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