A poem by Morning-meadow Jones

He Goes Up to the Mountains
mountain under cloudy sky
He goes up to the mountains 
On days he wakes up snarling
When life’s a shrinking cage
A shill game
He goes to back to his trees
He comes home muddy, aching
Hungry, whole and human
He thinks he’s getting exercise
I know he is grieving
Some people mourn in motion
And the earth always
Receives them


Morning-meadow Jones is a mother, migrant, and multi-medium creative, practicing various Arts from her home in Wales, UK. She recently launched her writing career, at the age of 51. She has words forthcoming in Overtly Lit and the other side of hope magazine.

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