Pocklington

[Crepuscule]

I like all three stanzas. A lot.

But the poem as a whole is slightly disjointed... I was a bit disappointed that you abandoned the fish. (Probably says more about me than the poem!)

Pocklington

The shiny fish
Shout their own prices.
Their beds are as cold
As the white fingers
That scoop them up.

A bell suspends
The time as the blue and gold
Clock stops mid tick
And then begins
When the green brass booms.

The rapeseed all falls
Over at once and wraps itself
In neat bundles.
Its odour draws tears
As thick as oil,

But then you've been
Away for years.