Blizzard on the hills in spring – by Bridget Khursheed

 

An infinite wire fence on each side nothing but snow
The boundary itself curls like a barbed creeper bent up then down
Animals struggling to get to feed
 
But there are no beasts here:
Just a path of beaten down footsteps in the lee of the posts
The white on all sides the dogs and mine
 
This is the only line we can follow on a blank map
Everything is flat we fly high up above the dykes
Somewhere in a hollow deep beneath sheep breathe still

 

 

Bridget is a poet based in the Scottish Borders and this poem reflects the way she walks,  runs and writes in our very rural land. She was also a (very poor) teenage taxidermist and loves Victorian gothic and engineering.