Description
Poem for a New Year By Matt Goodfellow Something’s moving in, I hear the weather in the wind, sense the tension of a sheep-field and the pilgrimage of fins. Something’s not the same, I taste the sap and feel the grain, hear the rolling of the rowan ringing, singing in a change. Something’s set to start, there’s meadow-music in the dark and the clouds that shroud the mountain slowly, softly start to part. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.