Snow fell as jagged crystals, not as flakes:
white drifts pixilating Beacon grass;
chill misty air; my frozen fingers ached;
and I fell, too, upon my fleece-lined arse –
which made the spring-expectant hillside quake.


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8 Responses to Hex-Symmetry

  1. J Oxenholme says:

    HI MF,

    What a good poem – well done. Very seasonal and enjoyable :)

    One abiding memory, however, is of a hirsute arse. Such a ticklish subject! Mind you, as my hill-walking tells me, very comforting. Rock-On!

  2. J Oxenholme says:

    Well penned :)

  3. Ron says:

    Lovely, though the thought of how large your arse must be to cause a hillside quake gave me more shivers than jagged crystals might.

  4. Thomas Davis says:

    LOL. Know how that feels. Been there. Done that. Great poem.

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