Hammerwood Forest


Autumn is pouring rust on trees,
seasonable fashion and colours
dripping gloss over leaves.

 . . . . . . . A hush, he listens.

Echoes of woodpeckers playing
a percussionist’s riff,
as chilled air hangs heavy and thick.

 . . . . . . He aims, he fires.

Misty mellow tones of autumn
twist into lonely tunes in this place.
This is Hammerwood Forest, where

 . . . . . . fallow deer chase the wind.
 . .
 . .
 . .
 . .

Written for Margo’s Tuesday Tryout: It’s The Truth Prompt

Note: My uncle was a keen huntsman.

Author: Misky

‘Misky’ lives in the UK surrounded by flowers, freshly baked bread, and always keeps dog biscuits in her pocket for her blind Springer Spaniel. She never buys clothing without pockets. Her work is widely published.

2 thoughts on “Hammerwood Forest”

  1. Great name for the forest. I could swear I ran across it recently while looking something up, Now, if I can remember the something.

    I like the structure with the three short lines offset, so they can be read alone, almost as a haiku.

    1. Hammerwood is a real place between the counties of Kent and Sussex. It’s very near where I live, and very close to Ashdown Forest, which is even closer. Pooh sticks and all that.

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