ISABEL CHENOT has loved, memorised, and practised poetry all her remembered life. Some of her poems are collected in The Joseph Tree, available from Wiseblood Books
overcast
Riddled with hidden stars,
hinged with a hint of white,
the sky won’t open.
A single file of cars
wends even muter light;
and hills, half spoken,
heave up around that glow.
Asleep, they don’t show green —
pitched over black.
My face to earth’s huge back:
how can I know
hills I have never seen?
They’re a desire between
here and the sky’s shadow.
ISABEL CHENOT has loved, memorised, and practised poetry all her remembered life. Some of her poems are collected in The Joseph Tree, available from Wiseblood