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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & Owner
Ray Rasmussen, General Editor

Volume 12, Number 1, March 2018

Joy McCall
Norwich, Norfolk, England


in the dream
I'm walking through a field
of ripe barley
small mice are running
through the stalks

Half of the field has been harvested.
There are great piles of cut barley ready to be gathered in.

A man standing among the uncut crop is calling my name.
He is wearing a dark brown hooded cloak.

He is not the Reaper, although he has been scything.
He has a kind face and long straggly hair under the hood.

as I draw near
he is tapping his watch
you're late
I stand listening to the wind
rustling the barley

the man folds
his arms across his chest
and smiles
not yet then he says
not yet



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