journal of a writing man
Work in Progress
Subliminals
A twist of scrap plastic
caught on my neighbour's fence
has fooled my eye's corner all day.
Sometimes it looks like a lapwing
or some relative to the wagtail
visiting out of time and place.
Tonight, keening unseen in the wind,
it sounds as though a curlew
is calling over the lonely fens.
John Bailey
Lincolnshire, March 2005
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