We’re delighted to announce that the judge for the International Willesden Herald 2017 New Short Stories competition will be none other than...
Friday, September 29, 2006
Fly with the high fields
Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
From: Fern Hill by Dylan Thomas