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Dry Leaves On A Bed Of Memories

by Chris Pitts

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Suffolk Moon 03:33
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Dry Leaves 02:15
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Losing Blues 02:22

about

The Path to Groton Woods
A million secrets in the dark twilight of evening call to natures mumbling irreverent smiling beast. The owl and the rook make final preparations for a hungry night. All safety lost now as chaos clutches the dead hand of night, and we fall into the dance of the flying leaves.
The word “Gone” can hardly do justice to lives that tore the moon apart looking for meaning, who can resist despairing of human kindness?
Once we walked through Groton Woods when the warm summer evening told us tales of tales of tales, and the ghost of a shipwrecked mariner made faces on ancient tree trunk bark. Reeling in weariness, our old bones look out on an overgrown path. The path to Groton Woods

credits

released January 21, 2020

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about

Milborn House Colchester, UK

Chris Pitts writes in the tradition of English landscape poets. He uses the medium of ‘Symphonic folk’ to give a sense of Pathos to his work.
Although a lot of his work is melancholy it is by no means all like that, the thumping fervour of Arnold Plum tells us that he can be tongue in cheek even when the lyric is serious.

Mark Surrudge

Castle Folk
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