The Ash Grove

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
Ken Cockburn

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. 

 

 

 

Read more about this poet