Hardened Feet
Wet leaf end of winter
and I enjoy the walk
through the pockets of the country.
Names left in bark
thaw each spring and I
wonder if the owners did
or if the handle splintered with
the first split-cups of March
when they sweep the pines
and frosty, petalled white
with their baleful heads,
an answer from under
to man’s hardened feet.
Treading through the absence
I can see an ailing snowman
feeding the blades and
biting the tawny wind,
all stick-limbs and root features
coat buttons and spent scarves.
.
South Clouds
Heated etch piece-pierced
in my fingerprint,
when we
flew South
with the muddied birds,
steals cuffed sleeves of Spring
and breaks against the shore
my eyes
made cloud
at in Winter’s last
page, it’s top corner
thumbed to clot esteem
and break
the tide
that marks our hips.
.
Ethan Taylor is an Actor/Poet currently studying for his BA(Honours) in Acting in Guildford, UK. He has been published in both online and hardcopy literary magazines including ExFic, Message In A Bottle, Snakeskin and Peeking Cat and is currently a series writer for the website Channillo.
The Poetry Shed 
Both poems are atmospheric: that ailing snowman at the end of the first poem is especially haunting. And in the 2nd poem, I keep seeing those “muddied” birds. Thanks.