April 4, 2019

Writing

By hjs

Some days
a cotton wool tide laps
the windowsill,

drops to reveal
the green valley, grey
limestone peaks,

then billows up
to smother window, view
and the house.

Amid the creak of
the rafters, the chimney’s
tinny commotion

I persevere.
Now you see it –
now you don’t.

This entry was posted on Thursday, April 4th, 2019 at 3:41 pm and posted in All poems, Life_the Universe_and ..., Moments, writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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