Cheryl Garner (2013)





















For years this field was lost in rain,

Unseen by moon and morning haze.

Its entropy a fade of green,

A negative beyond all space,


Ignored by all but heron’s wings.

It shed its paths as clues and rhymes:

Unnatural golds and hidden ways,

A loss which never formed a sky.


Yet here it is: a fragile myth;

A knowledge formed of what might be;

A place between; a knowing spell;

A line connecting distant hopes.


For once this world revolves around

This empty field, this broken crown.



Journal Entry (17/11/1998)

The forty minutes daylight I have time for.

Today it is below freezing. The sheep next to the platform were very still. Some standing, some lying down. They were widely scattered today (sometimes they bunch up). You’d have thought they would have huddled together today, it being so cold. But they are sheep.

For me in this frame of mind, writing and train travel have an affinity. The train is a stillness before the public dictated rush of my days’ work. Writing makes demands of time, slowing thought, concentrating and distending duration.



Image by Cheryl Garner (2013)

Poem by thecheesewolf (2013)

Train Journal entry by Gavin Jones (1998)