Sunday, 24 June 2012

The Racing Wind

In a racing wind I held on to the darkness only to find a grey creature
from another world curling at my feet.

Forgetful, distracted by the clouds I retreated
into the slate world of indoors.

When the darkness followed me in I remembered.
Retraced my steps into the scudding world and scooped
the creature somewhere into my arms.

However else I am judged I have done this thing.


  1. And a fine thing it was.

    In its world grey may well be the colour of life.

    Its memory would have felt at home amid the slate world of indoors.

    The scudding world must be a place of rapid, fluent transformation.

    All this has moved well beyond the narrow field of judgment.

  2. A beautiful observation. Thank you Tom.



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