November 16, 2006

All Lithe in the Grey - Not

A November morning midway and I go blithe
into the creeping grey and the pallid sun rising
by slow inches, moved to elation by the thought
of light and warmth at the cusp of the seasons,
their perfect round and inexorable turnings.

Light and stillness, flocks of singing birds in chant,
the slow caress of wind along this furrowed skin,
a fine rain falling like mist and the new day
promising splendid adventures out there
somewhere beyond, in rock and tree and bog.

All lithe in the grey, I turn my face to the light
and revel in caffeine vapoured thoughts of
daring exploits, fancies and whole choreographies,
original poetic renderings enough to make a
reader weep, or far more likely flee. . . .

Written for Poetry Thursday where the theme this week is lies.