This poem is taken from Stand 226, 18(2) June - August 2020.

Jill Sharp Two Poems
Plastic Ekphrastic

The wind plays make-believe, pokes fun,
with all that escaped polyethylene.

A small black bag that one held lightbulbs
frisks down the path;

wrapping from pillows clings to the hedge –
bedraggled heron who’ll still be there

when the feathers moulder in landfill.
The wind conjures wraiths

of creatures now gone; creates species
that might have evolved here, if their ghosts

hadn’t preceded them. Here’s bunting
from a summer fête; doves

in the act of taking flight;
prayer flags to an unknown deity.

Searching, please wait... animated waiting image