The Gate

IMG_7196

Five bars of rusting iron hold nothing in,

apart from flattened brown bracken

before the mountain and its quick green rise.

 

You have to love a gate that keeps nothing out,

untethered by fence or railing,

jettisoning even the protocol of posts;

 

its sudden mystery – leading nowhere,

space and more space, with passing places,

a strong westerly, Loch Voil wild with breakers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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3 thoughts on “The Gate

  1. Mandy Wilkinson says:

    Love that Linda. I love gates too! Sending greetings from a freezing Spain xxx

  2. David Walker says:

    forgotten gateway
    sycamore saplings
    passing through

    Sent from Windows Mail

  3. Mysterious pic triggering thoughtful words.

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