Poetry – Early Morning

Early Morning

Hazy morning sunlight,

Glowing behind

Gossamer banks of striated clouds,

Bathing fields and hedges

In buttery radiance.

Diaphanous clouds

Tinged with pinks, oranges and greens.

Trees silhouetted

In clumps of skeletal tendrils

Against an ocean of mist.

That film of vapour

Lying in pools

Mysteriously shrouding

The sloping landscape

In mystic inscrutability.

Opher – 22.11.2020

To walk up on to the hills in the early morning is to enter a different world of great mystery.

The mist hangs low across the fields as the wan sunlight pierces the thin cloud bathing the land.

It reveals a world of great beauty, flooded with subtle pastel colours – glowing.

It reveals a mysterious world in which humans are alien, a world of faeries, goblins and imps.

It is tantamount to peering through a stained-glass window into a different universe.

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