Golden Touch

She sang the song with pony poise

and those who heard were hers

on Spanish steel of castile strings

and silver saddled spurs.

And those who heard by song

she sang transported to some Spain

or distant islands forth from whence

she’d take them once again,

then cantering to a wintery place

of snow and snow clad firs

cleansed, perennial and green

redeemed, restored and loved,

for golden voice and golden hair

and golden touch were hers.


From Brendan Connolly's anthology, The Bridle Path,

prepared for publication and edited by Brian Bingham,





Next edition of Automatic Pilot available in print and digital format in July 2020.

Closing date for submissions, 15th June 2020.

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