We walked
me and Grandad
through malingering woods
stopping to read
moss maps with our fingers
Braille in bark
Grandad’s hands gnarled
as the wood
mine smooth
unlined urban pink
to his chestnut bronze
we shelter
beneath The Four Brothers
a road map of roots
slither
wriggle
as though alive
Grandad pries secret spaces
extracts a metal tin
the Queen’s face
blinks
in diffuse dreamy light
Inside
a twist of hair
a faded photograph
a pressed violet, paper thin
a polished pebble
stygian sloe
breath plumes
fingers entwine
we remember
those trees
our woodland shrine
Alyson lives in West Yorkshire, UK with her husband, teen son and four rescue animals. Her fiction and poetry has been published in a range of anthologies, most recently in Trickster's Treats 4 from Things in the Well, and Air from Tyche Books.
Her work has been read on BBC Radio, local radio, on several podcasts (Ladies of Horror), and placed in competitions.
She swims, sings and is often to be found roaming the moor with her Lab cross, Roxy.
Her work has been read on BBC Radio, local radio, on several podcasts (Ladies of Horror), and placed in competitions.
She swims, sings and is often to be found roaming the moor with her Lab cross, Roxy.
Latest posts by Alyson Faye (see all)
- Owl-light - 9th October 2022
- Stones, Bones and Roots - 14th April 2021
- Night Skating in Norfolk - 18th December 2020