soft fog of light
and tree sense
mist uncurls
and forms again
a branch in
grey silver
seems to die
moon sets
uncurling
unseen
my heart
in the fresh snap
of pine
forms again
Another poem inspired by the enigmatic Loch Voil in Scotland.
soft fog of light
and tree sense
mist uncurls
and forms again
a branch in
grey silver
seems to die
moon sets
uncurling
unseen
my heart
in the fresh snap
of pine
forms again
Another poem inspired by the enigmatic Loch Voil in Scotland.
I like the “fresh snap of pine” – it made my nostrils twitch in appreciation – as a contrast to the ethereal greys and silvers of the earlier lines. And here today at Brora we have solid slaty rain…
Thank you, I had a similar nostril twitch when I wrote it, and in fact when I walked among the pines at Dhanakosa, on a grey and foggy day. Hope the sun peeks in to you soon at Brora.
sweet with language