100-Word Fiction: ‘The Migrant Waders’

Maps chart tomorrows
Finding the distance
Between faultlined selves
And coordinated belongings
Closer to free

Perspectives are scythed
This heady summer
Of clear truths
Pollen strewn and
Seeds soil-felled


Butterflies skim by
Tortoiseshell, browns, fritillary
A field full
Barley, wheat, maize
Green, yellow, gold

The distant water
A silver foil
Thin behind reeds
And the woodland
Chestnut, birch, oak

A steam plume
Cooling factory chimney
Blows against horizon
And still sky
Like a cigarette


Time when weighted
Bows towards harvest
Drys leaves bronze
Looses the grain
Cracks the earth

The migrant waders
Will soon return
And call this home

Published by MW Bewick

Writer of poetry and place; editor and journalist. Co-founder of Dunlin Press. Books including Pomes Flixus, The Orphaned Spaces and Scarecrow are available from http://dunlinpress.bigcartel.com

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