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new years
by Peter Humphreys

the fog
when it came
did not creep
nor roll
down the mountain
it emerged
as if up
from the bog
out from the bushes
sheltering our home
down through the branches
of the elders and yews
silencing the wren
the blackbirds
and even the old crows
who sat on the roof top
like shameless priests
as the rook walked
up and down the meadow
short beside our house
like a vicar searching
for a flock to preach to
and the sheep
down in the nether field
silently gathered
as the cows moaned
and sat down
midst thistle and thorn
to glean the grass
'fore milking time
emerge it did
and I wondered
just wondered
about the souls at sea
down by the foreshore
checking pots and nets
unaware of dangers
not seaward
the light house
moaned its warning
the silence otherwise
was deathly
but me and mine
were at least
sure safe
as I sat by the fire
sparking with new turf
and said a prayer
just to myself
for the new years
to come and
the old year near gone
I lit my pipe
and hummed


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