24th March

A grey mist
On the face of the moor
And I’m lost
For a moment
Again
The skylarks are singing
A different song
Their sibilant syllables
Softened by cloud
And dulled
by grey distance
More like a whisper
Than love
But love, it can whisper
Its gossamer threads
Are stronger than irons
That anchor our ships
To the night
A brightness of lapwings
Is calling to me
As I ride with the wind
And into the light
And Im lost in the moment
When lost becomes found
#poetry