Delving in his garden High up on the North Downs My father came upon a strange stone, Shiny, sandy-coloured with darker lines Running through it. Seventy million years ago the geologists reckoned This stone was laid down upon the sea’s
In A Blue Moon – by Ted Walter
Glass a yet silent, milk bottles, poised above concrete, suspend my evening ritual as tall, slow-striding Orion gathers momentum, hurdling rooftops. His bright constellation dwindles beyond shadow; the wings of my childhood folding, unfolding, lifting through dewfall. Beyond the bright