1.
Up on the Western rise, where moorland
meets the wondering eye, the vaulted lark
intones in broad-brimmed skies. Yellow hills
backdrop behind; most Aprils, clothed in Rape
or suns that give my house a mellow glow
2.
Heading home with head bent down, I quickstep
past a canvas door, the mongrel's vigilante snarl.
Besides the poorest tumble-down a man appears,
half-dressed, despite the North wind's roar.
His pastured pony ruminates, unstirred.
3.
High and wild's the hawthorn hedge where small birds
nest. It bounds three fields away, a windbreak
to the east. The earth lies comatosed in snow
yet still the willows whip and elder by the back
door creeks, and taps its thin, dry sticks,
4.
Sauntering home and southward bound
a woodland parasoles my path. And all the desert
secrets of oasis there laid bare in garden parody
An orchard, flowers, and dugout pond
where I and wild things drink up shade.
5.
My house is more than just a name, a board game rebound
from square one. Past hazards, toils, and unforeseens
I breathe a sigh and turn the key. This centred place
of compass points, where rest and refuge
settle in - till heaven hoists me home
For my MTB prompt; Writing the Five Directions we are constructing a poem in 5 Pentastich Quintains (unregulated rhyme, meter etc). Inspired by Hererra’s poem “Five Directions to my house” with the option of using 5 phrases from that poem, as here with yellow hills; canvas door; the earth; desert secrets; a name.
PoetryPix 