You called me again last night, thick still pool on the moor
you called me by the mournful pipes and sickly yellow light drawn by your bow
By your neck thrown back, the rowan thrust back in the autumn wind
...
Read full text
Wonderfully rich imagery, really liked these lines: 'The sheep strands snagged in the brambles barbs And the cracked dust of ewe bones thrown against the velvet moss' A truly visual write Anthony - even without the explanation! Kind regards, Justine