Published September 15th, 2024
by Thom Rickarby
With the strips of winter
from summer's shining hair
I fastened what she wears
in the confidence of furs.
Now in her idled hands,
there's a sleeping yellow bird
for the man who kept her word.
His coat waits on her stand.
Although she does not know
the spoils of the war
I'll drop upon her floor
where the sun moves slow
she has seen me loose,
as her hands weighed my bow
an arrow flit with woad,
to where her shadow moved
and as my feet were sure
she felt her own eyes flare.
I'd hit her target square
with a blindfolded roar.
About the Poet
Thom Rickarby resides in Cardiff, Vale of West Glamorgan, Wales.
Read the poet's biography on Thom Rickarby's Artist Page.
This poem is collected in Poetry World #10,
published in the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
Previously published in Wales Poetry Magazine:
Niagara
by Lynn White
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