New Jacket. (For Damaris)

That dead tree that I'm about to cut,
proud with its crow bounty.
A few sheep mushroomed
fly scarved cattle fields
down the road,
you.
In the wardrobe
a new jacket
waiting to be worn old.
This winter
whatever the weather
I shouldn't be cold.

by Seamus Hogan

Comments (1)

This is a lovely poem, well done. Carol