Opposites

Held up by a red light;

Frustrated and at end-tether point

He fidgets, restless,

Tense hands full of tomorrow carpet,

Head packed with plans and deadlines.

On the other side of

The fat-tar, busy river

She lingers, placid,

Unhurried by clocks;

Head in a good space

Ears hanging on to

The dizzying music of stars.

He chooses not

To see her,

She doesn’t even

Realise he’s there.

Advertisements

The White

DSC00981

The white that fell
Like mushroom spores
Giddily, god-driven; endlessly
Down the skies,
Across the winds.
The white that fell;
That carpeted lawns
That changed the contours,
That blanked the colours,
That washed the sight,
That revised plans,
That altered the focus.
The white that fell
That froze the breaths
Of unfolded sheep;
Brought strangers to the window,
Magnified distance
And bent familiar routes.
The white that fell?
It’s falling still.