with each throw
the boy’s stone lands
at the centre of the universe

-Paul Chambers

blue hour
an old sheep track
winds into knapweed

-Paul Chambers

rain-thick air
a radio hums
from the lambing shed

-Paul Chambers

slow afternoon
the foal’s nostrils
widen in the breeze

-Paul Chambers

the path down
to the river
flowering gorse

-Paul Chambers