#david callin

[batgovernor]

David Callin, 'Sangliers'

It is not a forest, more a sun- dappled woodland near the Pont du Gard, the river fol-de-rolling merrily. Here, where they’ve been told the wild things are, a family, a mother and her young, step through wild garlic till they come upon a small ménage of wild boars, sangliers: a mother and her young, a glade away. Their shadows lengthened by the dappling sun, each gives way to the other and trots…

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[poem-today]

A poem by David Callin

St. Stephen’s Day 

The wren's untouchable, except today. Once upon a time, we all turned out to chase her through the village, all the way

to messy ends in middens and in ditches. With drums and whistles, in a merry rout, we solemnize the harrying of witches. 

David Callin