Tuesday, 27 June 2017



An anxious soup of unstirred air sucks life from me
The greyness of the dawn’s thick sweating blankets
As it’s sitting so heavily with its failed promises
Controlling snoozes call out to me but fail to deliver
One morning - then another - flit unremarkably by
Underneath brushed aluminium, zinc and steel sky

After lying unmoved - the tempting glint of copper
As magically sunlight pulls me outdoors at dusk
Where above the rows of jackdawed chimneys
Evening light is heading out painting the town gold
Whilst shadows dance to sculpt and form the mountain
Wordlessly it tangoes throwing shapes the morning hides

Day’s last searchlight picks out a single pink foxglove
Climbing higher to see the artistry of painted alchemy
The like of which Pollock could have only dreamed
Could you fail to be astonished, exuberant at the sight
Of soaring gulls and crows silhouetted against glorious gold
And platinum night owl flashes fluttering through the trees

Martin A W Holmes, June 2017

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