The still
Dawn here, is different
somehow still,
stretching slowly awake
beneath a cloak of frozen fog
tinged with sea salt
and fertile earth.
An alternate reality
where I struggle to
bring myself to life,
to awaken against the stifling
English morning
to be heard, although silent
and still.
When all is grey
your streak of blue
is visible in the distance
where you abide and belong.
Far from my fragility
reflected in frigid droplets
of sallow mist.
I am undecided
whether it is you
or I who does not belong
here
standing in the ploughed ridges
where gulls circle cackling
waiting to move on.
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oh this is beautiful..the dawn stretching awake…the cloak of frozen fog…magical morning..
Really beautiful, Shan. You are in great form at the moment. Loving your poetry
nice shan…the dawn stretching awake…the ‘to be heard, yet silent and still’…and the pondering in the end as well on who does not belong…contemplative…
hope you are well…
What a stunning picture, and your words are powerful, original, and awakening. Another masterpiece Shan.
lol…”Put me out of my misery…”
Wonderful Poem madam.