walking home this misty morning,

the gulls circling in the grey.

the world is still;


slowly winding.


but the crows’ ominous cry

echoes in the silence,

as they flee their entrail feast,

something foreboding;

forewarning from the trees.


but still i cross and still i wander,

closer now than ever was.

the world is still

and i am moving,


winding still.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s