On
the train I looked up
and put away my screen.
I opened my eyes, awake
catching the beautiful call through the window.
I see a print
the bare trees in ink, the white sky a blank page.
Each is unique:
feathery softness
knobbly bobbles.
They ache delicately.
It is all there waiting
thousands of moments to savour and sustain us.
This is the one caught today,
the bare trees against the white sky.
No comments:
Post a Comment