Gillian Spraggs
←  return to index

Brancaster in Autumn


Wind shaking the reeds,
ceaselessly weaving bright shafts,
a fence hiding – what?


Brief calligraphy
of foam, as the gleaming scrolls
unfurl towards me.

What is it, this star
that glitters from a tide pool,
darting and turning?


Cloudy sunset, sands
streaming with mother of pearl; 
nameless, these colours.


Twilight and sea-mist.
Unseen geese bugle and yelp
– hairs stir on my neck.
Gillian Spraggs
An earlier version of this poem was published in The Best of miniWORDS 1995, ed. Kevin Ryan, Charnwood Arts, 1995
← last poem next poem  →
return to top ↑
© Gillian Spraggs, 1995, 2006
page added to site on 25 February, 2006 | last modified 24 November, 2006