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Brushstrokes by Niall Machin


In May

The meadow is golden yellow

Buttercup, rattle, hawkweed, goatsbeard

The last before midday only, when Jack Goes to Bed

‘Golden lads and girls’ all

Its sunshine

Its spring

Its blinding optimism

Safe in the knowledge that the balance of the year is yet to come


Fast forward to August

When the meadow gets the blues big time

Scabious, cranesbill, knapweed, chicory

Whose flowerheads like satellite dishes track the arcing sun

A Dylan tangle – like a bird that flew

A mash up of Picasso, Matisse and Monet

With Rothko sat moodily on the bench

Lamenting the passing of summer


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Niall Machin has had poems featured in Bath Magg, Atrium Poetry, 192 Magazine and A Thin Slice of Anxiety. He works as an ecologist and lives in Wiltshire watching the skies and bothering moths.

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