April Poetry Winner & Quarterly Competition Winner

Nicholas Beaumont, Lincoln, England

In Memoriam
for Adam

“it remains for me to see three hundred harvests,
three hundred vintages” Ovid‘s Metamorphoses, Book XIV

dust churns
between the pews
I nudge simon
tell him how years ago 
you dressed as a shepherd
the hymns
did your head in
or at harvest
the smell
of warm bread
how you carried the wreath
down the aisle
now we carry you
pews creak
we exit 
at the coolness
and the smell
of cut grass