Charles Thompson

Hello Green


Us larks folks so people across Levels land – a tribe – grateful you  airy on any day ground soil grass to sky and our song so airy sweet – and so on this day and eve of souls and so and spiky witches dear and pranks to play and special gifts we call our festival hello green and you might whisper round 'green where's green where's green' much as winter starts to stalk through every wood field hill an ogre with its cold club and dark curtaining of light where's green as tis in our green hearts and what we glimpse and glance to all about as sticky sealed in buds on trees which are green leaf waiting for birth and grass that flat and slope roam our stock of this and that sweeping swooping as if forward forward everywhere as fine dresses swoop so now us larks address the heaviness that the quick dark brings and so fat blackberries off arching thorns with their woody juice puckle wither and are gone no more to pluck but no more to mourn as if hahah the ghosts of blackberries of fruit of July leaf and song haunt our freezing selves no more


This is the way I like to write - a whirl of unpunctuated thoughts in lively dramatic monologue. The voice here is Somerset local, rural, male,  bucolic and ‘hello green’ is an alternative to Halloween. Thus this is a voice from the goddess world.

CT horse chestnut.jpg
CT horsechestnut tree.jpg