They lift from the hedgerow Light as cobweb and spun sugar A shroud of lace for a season’s going Displaced migrants, the bramble’s other Temporary lover: Jenny Long Legs rise in a cloud In pestilent numbers this September As hands shake the limbs of briar For black berries and rose hips On foraging trips. PeaceContinue reading “100-Word Fiction: ‘Freedom Fruit’”
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MW Bewick 