Hypnopompic
This morning we
woke to find the earth had a new skin.
Cold, opaque, so
smooth we could not walk on it.
It had grown over
the cars so we could not move them.
It was not as
obdurate as thought, and wore thin by mid-afternoon.
The cars were wet,
unskinned, and could be moved: tentative at first.
We coaxed
ourselves along the roads, vigilant for lingering shreds.
Between tyre and
tarmac is a place where friction makes a positive contribution.
Later, night brings
a white hypnosis; in the headlights, falling, mellifluous, muffled, profuse,
resolute.
Comments
www.modernworld4.blogspot.com
Gina: We have the fire lit and stodgy food- and when the sun shines here we really really appreciate it! I checked out your blog- like your idea of giving numbers to commentators on posts, so the vulnerable can speak without fear of peer group reprisals.