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Wycombe Sound 106.6

Wycombe Sound 106.6. Sunday, 4 March 2018. The fox is sleeping. At the side of the road the fox lies sleeping. In the heart of farmland and homeland. Stretched out as if at ease. Tailed tucked in, snout out in relief. Thursday, 23 November 2017. There is a tree in my memory. Hollowed out of mollusced softness. Black and burnt she felt like a cloak. Where one could hide from others eyes. Seek shelter where no one spoke. Sunday, 19 November 2017. We laid our back against the stack. When you lose someone.
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Wycombe Sound 106.6

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Wycombe Sound 106.6. Sunday, 4 March 2018. The fox is sleeping. At the side of the road the fox lies sleeping. In the heart of farmland and homeland. Stretched out as if at ease. Tailed tucked in, snout out in relief. Thursday, 23 November 2017. There is a tree in my memory. Hollowed out of mollusced softness. Black and burnt she felt like a cloak. Where one could hide from others eyes. Seek shelter where no one spoke. Sunday, 19 November 2017. We laid our back against the stack. When you lose someone.

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This web page poetryinpubs.blogspot.com states the following, "Sunday, 4 March 2018." We saw that the webpage said " At the side of the road the fox lies sleeping." It also said " In the heart of farmland and homeland. Stretched out as if at ease. Tailed tucked in, snout out in relief. Thursday, 23 November 2017. There is a tree in my memory. Hollowed out of mollusced softness. Black and burnt she felt like a cloak. Where one could hide from others eyes. Seek shelter where no one spoke. Sunday, 19 November 2017. We laid our back against the stack."

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