Sleep is elusive

A cold wind throws
scattered gravel 
volleys of rain 
against the glass.
It’s 3.29am
The kitchen is dark.

Milk, lit by 
a prison break searchlight ,
is taken
and restored
to the fridge.
I make tea.

I sit at the table
Hands cupped
in  warming
Wind, rain, breathe, sip

I'm weary
which isn't enough
to deafen
ancient echoes of 
and memories

that speak with a
clarity and resonance
overriding the world
 I can see, touch
and feel.
They are the loudest voices.

Night embroiders my
flights of fancy and 
All those scenarios
play out
If,  If,  If,
If  only.

flicker and fade
from view
Wind, rain,
 breathe, sip

Splinters of light 
from an unshaven day 
are gathered 
one by one
forming an
ever widening sky

Even as that grey
flooded horizon is complete
The darkness is at work
 reclaiming, resurrecting 
its lost and found

 complete, save only
 for a few
stolen fragments,
Enabling the stars 
to shine.
Wind, rain, breath, sip


Former Picture Editor. Now a sometime photographer and poet.

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