Skymaking

The day never seems quite ready at this time of year. 


Skymaking

 

I

As the year crawls

Towards December

The skies realise

Realignment is needed

 

The morning streets

At the edge of winter

Haze in morning suntwilight

Emerge as dew-laden trees unbend

 

Wispy cloud ghosts

Glacially rush to each other

Across the smooth pale blue

Of a sky not quite coloured in

 

They had almost forgotten

They’re not allowed to hibernate

So they gather, sheepishly

To diffuse some gold through fluffy burgeoning grey

 

II

The cold meanwhile

Has struck a deal with the sun

That if it sticks to the shadows

It can have free rein to push leaves into the grass

 

III

The city wakes up, stretches.

Pulling cars up the hill

Like the clouds it’s become slower

To react

 

The slow, stumbling charge of  life

In the emeraldewed grass

The slow, lilting birdsong

And the eternal spin of a sky moved on

 

IV
The day reaches out slowly

Keeping its other in hand in its warm pocket

But time has slipped round the corner

And kept on running

 

Not out per se

But towards the moon

And day can’t find its running shoes

So retires to its cloudfluff armchair

 

And calls it a day

Early

 

Sloth out.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s