Keen

I am keen. On Life.
Every minute every excruciating minutiae
Detail of it.
This afternoon we drove towards home: from Kent to Cornwall
Hot behind car glass because the air con is broken
Open windows sporadically: beautiful relief.
Over Blackhill Downs a cloud had dropped, split like a fallen craft-
Into the mist we drove it was neither
Recognisably, day, night?
The sun was barely shining, a plain disc
Until hilltops: there it glared
And in the valleys, dense, debris vapour
And the evening came. We drove as the sun dipped to the earths’s edge
Seemed to set it on fire: cloud or smoke forming in the sky
The sky:
Rubescent, turquoise, molten gold
Expanse beyond detail
Gestaltist, joyous:
Keen, the experience of everything.