South of my days' circle, part of my blood's country,
rises that tableland, high delicate outline
of bony slopes wincing under the winter,
low trees, blue-leaved and olive, outcropping granite-
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No-one is listening South of my days' circle I know it dark against the stars, the high lean country full of old stories that still go walking in my sleep. An elegant poem!
No-one is listening South of my days' circle I know it dark against the stars, the high lean country full of old stories that still go walking in my sleep. Beautiful poem shared with us. Thanks poet.
South of my days.....! This poem this fantastic poem brings tears, smiles and memories to me here in my older days. It shines like the sun.
Beautiful poem with nice penmanship. Thanks and congratulations to her soul for being selected this poem as the poem of the day.
Under the winter! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Yum.... now this is writing! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Reading myself some more Wright, that's for sure!
yum