White Horse Hill
Snowed with ghosts
and the freezing glow
of the sky lowering
its hushing light
the pastures close
cool and cotton
over England ’s
buried names.
A grey witness
goes into the land,
inhumes the day
inside its clues.
The trees stretch,
tell the time,
stow the trace
of a distant gun.
In memory of those who fell at the Battle of the Somme, which began 100 years ago today.
'White Horse Hill' was first published in The North 52. It will be included in my forthcoming collection, The Fetch (Nine Arches Press), published October 2016.
