Gascony
After we parted yesterday
the grass was dancing.
You’d wanted kind words
but I was happily silent.
Outside the old room
with flaking plaster walls
I sat on the porch
and watched young frogs
hop through vines.
Rough wine from oak barrels.
I drank it on the porch
as the world seemed to dance.
Beyond fields of maize
and bright yellow rapeseed
your village perches
with its pink roof jumble.
From the highest point
land shimmers like mirage.
We see for miles
to glacial mountains
ascending from the plain.
John Short studied Comparative Religion at Leeds University (UK) then spent many years in France, Spain and Greece doing a variety of jobs. In 2008 he returned to Liverpool and a couple of years later began submitting work to magazines. Now internationally published, he’s appeared in places like Pennine Platform, South Bank Poetry, London Grip, Ink Sweat & Tears, Envoi, French Literary Review and The High Window. In 2018 he was nominated for the Pushcart Prize by StepAway Magazine and has been featured twice as Poet of the Month on the Write Out Loud national poetry forum. He lives in Liverpool, is a member of Liver Bards and reads at local venues and beyond.
Foxglove Journal 