The original idea has been stored in my recorder quite a while:
as it’s the 31st, and a grotty morning anyway, time to commit to paper!
Furlong by furlong cliff patrol,
Fast as thought on air-clever neverbeating wings.
Above, far, blooming cold blushes
Of before-dusk clouds:
Glorious against the Wedgwood blue
Where lonely rides tonight’s half-sixpence moon.
Away up north, from below a coalsack weight of vapour,
Snatched binocular glimpses
Of a Presceli long since sun-abandoned:
Indigo grey snow fields,
Charcoalscuff wind-pruned belts of trees.
Returning Peregrine knifes an iceskater pass:
Other end of beach in less time than it takes to tell!
Watching, I tooth the concentrated Autumn sweetness
Of a storage-wrinkled pearmain apple –
And wonder if he or she is hungry.
All the while, Evening
Is beginning to bite the rainwash clarity:
If this eye-wetting wind drops,
We’ll be white by dawn for sure!
And so homeward, elated by
The roseglow beauty of winter cumulus
As finches twitterswoop roostwards…
And while I envy each viewsome lift of wings,
I would not wish a talon-threatened life
Like any of theirs!
© Christopher Jessop 2021