Sunday, 12 September 2021

The World Has Changed


I sit down to write it,

because if do not, capture 

how the sunlight streams so silently  

through the kitchen window

this morning; like all other things, 

all other moments - it will pass.

And it may not be forgotten,

or end; in the way some things cannot,

but be filed,

it will fade,

like the frost on distant roof slates,

and I must, 

for as I wash the cheeseboard

to the scent of wet pine,

and coffee;

an orange glow, rises,

over the hills and chimney pots, and the world

has changed:


but resolutely,

(a blackbird calls his mate)


the world has changed. 


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