I’ve discovered that poetry can be ‘published’ in many different forms. This particular poem first appeared as part of an exhibition of creative work at a festival. It was written on a large white board in the entrance to the main venue. As I look out of my window at this winter’s snow I think it is time for it to appear online.

Through sleeping eyes

I walk amidst the collision of seasons
A summer breeze across a snow-covered landscape.
The delicate blooms of primroses kissing the sun
Through a carpet of russet red leaves tumbled from fruit-laden trees

An alien landscape so familiar
In a world where chaos is order, and order
Is chaos.
A pot-stirring vision that swirls and turns
Until I no longer know if I’m dreaming
Or awake
In a rose-scented nightmare.