by Lindsay Mcleod

Hurling my grappling hook over the rainbow
I climbed the rungs of the rain in the sky and
left all of those half hearted highlights behind
where I’d been living inside of goodbye

but the howl of the wind cried wolf again
to my eagerly eaten heart
that staggered me over a ploughed first field
and stampeded me back to the start, where

I danced through the manse of a second chance
devouring all of my demons outgunned when
at last I broke free from the clasp of the clouds
and let my years ahead hungrily hunt.

Lindsay McLeod trips over the offing every morning. He has started messing about with words again lately. You might think he would know better by now, but oh no. His poetry has most recently found homes in THIRTY WEST, GRAND LIL THINGS, and THE DILLYDOUN REVIEW.

Leave a Reply