Winter Stravaig (24b)


Huffish gusts
Umber and ochre
Rule the roost
Trudge through mulch
Swaddled in umpteen layers
Drool of buttered toast


Shadorma November

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on November 24, 2017, in Shadorma and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 10 Comments.

  1. I remember the word ‘Stravaig’ from Scottish Doric my grandfather used to speak. So good to find it again after so many decades, here in your poem…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Ben, I enjoyed the images and sounds of this. Great word choices for reading out loud!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. i’m warmed
    by its mystery ๐Ÿ™‚


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