The Ash Grove
a springtime ash, whose leaves emerge from black an unlocked ash, so profligate with keys a mourning ash, its branches heaped on pyres a lettered ash, in the alphabet of trees a hedgerow ash, which twists among the briars a spreading ash, in summer’s heat a bield a sporting ash, to take the shinty field a warlike ash, for arrows and for spears a lightning ash, and flame that flash provides a hanging ash, a shade of dule and tears a timeless ash, the horse which Odin rides a steam-bent ash, which hoops the barrel staves a buoyant ash, a charm against the waves a blighted ash, whose crown is dying back
Ken Cockburn works as a freelance writer, translator, editor and writing tutor, based in Edinburgh. His poetic practice often involves collaborators and other art forms, as in his 'Road North' project with Alec Finlay, a Scottish version of Basho's 18th-century journey in northern Japan.
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