Quagmire
Refresh the autumn crest
Split the winter sun in two
The northern wind is my shield
The hills are my brittle bones
The trickling rivers are sleeping
The brooks are whispering
The hillside trails are my vestibule
Storms on the shore of my content
Rainclouds on the crest of my sward
Drop a tear in my tarn
Stoke the embers of my fire.
Daley Nixon graduated from the University of Glamorgan in 2009 with BA Honours in Film & Video including Scriptwriting. Daley has written magazine articles, short stories, short films and feature screenplays, three of which have been optioned by film companies in the US and UK. Daley is currently developing a number of projects for film and theatre.
Abegail Morley 
A most satisfying poem with well chosen word sounds and images! Everything about the poem, including its tent-like shape makes me think of experiencing the Great Outdoors – including LOTS of moisture. And emotions are suggested with effective metaphors. Thanks.