napowrimo day 7

“money is a kind of poetry”… a poem about money… the pictures are from inside uley long barrow looking out…

beech leaves

if bank notes were beech leaves
the beauty would linger
until the leaves were long fallen
and they were dry and crisp and light
they would gather with no-one to pick them up
in the creases of the tump
so light a small warm wind would pick them up and
blow them gently up into the bare trees
watch as they twisted, turned and floated back down
if bank notes were beech leaves
we would walk on them
waiting for that satisfying crunch underfoot
we would lie on them
rub the edges in between our fingers
feel them disintegrate
the beginning of a compost
to let it grow again
we would crawl
where they carpet the tiny passage into the burial mound
they would not spare our kneebones from the sharpness of stones
lining the chambers like unyielding feathers
if bank notes were beech leaves
skylarks would sing their praises
crows would hold our gaze
from the drystone walls

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