Michael Edwards

A BROODING PLACE

 

 

 

A BROODING PLACE

 

A brooding place where mists hang low

a desperate place for wilting dreams

insensate hopes and black despair

where tortured tongues that cut the air

contend their kin to tethered souls.

 

The chains and fetters once released

in metal tones submerged no more

as views of hills on sloe-black nights

seen through the traceries of leaves

concede to chivalry aroused.