It's that breathless, bruiseless sky,
pinned up like a fine starched sheet,
that descends, as if untied -
now enfettered by each peak;
It's that sliver of a lough
soaked in fingers sleek of sun,
spattered light like bleach-stained rock,
dragged along and quenched and spun
And that dizzy, drastic height,
tearing through the purpling sky,
like a mirror slices light,
like a finger through an eye.
The awareness comes like fog,
thick and heavy, over all:
that we're suddenly far too small.
-
Author:
Ryan Robson-Bluer (
Offline) - Published: January 20th, 2023 05:50
- Category: Nature
- Views: 15
Offline)
Comments2
'like a mirror slices light,'
love your wording!
thanks for sharing dear Poet
Thanks so much!
Good write R.
Thank youuu
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