Walking on the Wind

 

Listen to the music in these lines:

With rasping sighs the breeze-brashed branches

 fling their russetness 

 through churning skies to crust the ground

The leaves, which are not mentioned by name, just don’t cover the ground, they crust it, like a hardened layer.

Isn’t that a beautiful line: note how the poet used the alliteration of breeze-bashed branches to move the poem from a standing start to third gear.

And then these breeze-brashed branches fling their russetness through churning skies to crust the ground.

But the poet isn’t finished, not by a long shot: he is directing a film sequence for us to conjure…the breeze brashed branches/the churning skies/

And he continues

To crust the ground with autumn’s pall/ a detritus to delight us in the cough out calm that follows squall.

The poem is Walking on the Wind, the collection is Turn Now the Tide, and the poet is Joe Neal, from Wales but living in Wexford.

Joe is one of those poets, in the great Welsh tradition of Thomas and David Jones, who is concerned with the sound of the spoken word, and the relevancy of sound to form.

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