Saturday, 5 April 2014

April mist

I wrote this a few days ago.  A bit late for a spring equinox poem, but it's really a friendship-poem anyway, easily as much as a season's one.

April mist

April the first, and a thick mist
Lying close in the Thames valley.
Birds sing unseen above me
And the towers hide their heads.
Trees are fixed ghosts, and traffic
Is ghosts that move.
I cross the bridge, walking away
From one mystery and into
The next.
If you, my friend, were just
A hundred steps ahead of me
I would not know
That you were there.
And perhaps you are.
Perhaps you too are walking
Quiet in the quiet mist
Between two mysteries.
I cross the bridge, as you
Have done, or will do soon.
One would not know, looking out
That there are islands here;
Even the river itself
Can barely be seen.
Still, I am crossing water,
Towards the invisible
Blackbird singing ahead,
Towards the hidden wonder,
And, maybe, to you.

1 comment:

Miss Robyn said...

yes! that describes how I felt when walking the streets of London. as hard as that trip was for me, I miss England so much. it is part of me.