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‘Soft Landings’ by Roger Stennett

Updated: Jan 17

The British Poet Roger Stennett
Roger Stennett

Sky darkening in layers

Streaks of parallel clouds

Cake coloured. Strata

Of confectionery. Different.

Taste of haze upon the hills

Ingredients. Flavourings

Of Summer days ending.

Daily, the sky displays

Rich mist of evening falling

And we consume, post Teatime

Rhyming of the perfect dessert.

Sundown orange paints Welsh hills

With mandarin tartness.

Darkness left to cleanse our palates

Time ticks till, from the East

Life’s daily feast begins again

Sun rising. Pale as milk, at first

Cornflakes in an old, familiar bowl

Till sun settles high above

And Noon is generous. The table groans

Till time stirs us towards High Tea.

Warm cakes and making space

To ice the western Severn hills

To take us into evening.

The smell of sweet apple wood

Upon an open stone hearth

And the taste of colours

And colour of tastes.



Under a new-mooned sky

With stars, like sprinkles

Sprinkled upon the icing

And figure-skaters

Pirouetting us to sleep.

And journeys

Without maps

Spinning us to sleep

To slip and slide

And ride the powder snow

To dizzying country dreams

And sponge-like soft landings.

Roger Stennett



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