Sunday, 4 February 2018

EARLY SUNDAY MORNING

EARLY SUNDAY MORNING

Beyond the chimney pots
A waning moon glimmers
Bruising the morning sky

Ice crisply snap-crunches
On rain dampened tarmac
Tentatively sliding underfoot

Treading with greatest care
Tomorrow’s sunlight rips
A tear through last night

Yesterday’s owl is heard
But is gone long before
It might have been seen

Shaped snow-capped peaks glint
Against glowering grey skies
Whiteness defines the skyline

Beyond stone walls lights burn
Sunday still lies waiting
Frozen pools catch light

Skeletons of favourite trees
Still waiting to bud and burst
Paused life waiting to happen

Wires crackle life’s messages
Early crows dig out first worms
Before flying nervously away

Natural paintbrushes smearing
Pink lines daubed across the sky
Whilst the sun timidly hides

Pink becomes orange then yellow
Stripes cling to the shapes of dawn
Awaiting inevitable blues

Beyond the wall a pheasant
Struts red blue speckled brown
Cocksure that it was not seen

Bashful sunlight playfully
Tints thick woven cotton clouds
Into soft pink candyfloss

Descending feels steeper
Footings lost regained and lost
As boots glide unexpectedly

Vast road-trapped pools
Reflect upon overnight rain
Their cover melting away

A woodpigeon perches
On the same overhead wire
As it did the day before

Beyond the chimney pots
Sunbursts crack open the day
And I have come home

MAWH, 040218

No comments:

Post a Comment