Peter Jones


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  • Emeree Reyton (6/13/2012 2:44:00 AM)

    Wow, that's beautiful. What a gift you've got.

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Best Poem of Peter Jones

On Being 60

Shaken by jackdaws, in their fluttering castles,
To steal whistling arrows from forgotten fields,
I hear the blackthorn twistily move amendments
to old postcards of tilted-at windmills;
now quiet.

But ever yet I dance
In the crab-apple innocence of my lanes;
Courtly in calling, with precious breath.
Rich it is to be here
In the wind-feathered morning:
Carving time in the parish of all my days long.

Sailing amongst mazes
I follow in the windswirl of sounds
I no longer hear - but listening still:
Happy as glistening and rare
In the ...

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