The sky is closer in Edinburgh
than anywhere else in the world.
Clouds crowd ‘round in riots,
Fickly dripping with rain and then
Drying up, raisin-like.
Pigeons and gulls weave around
Bridges and hills
In chaotic feathered packs,
Cooing and squawking
In absurd bird anguish.
In secret, slippery nooks,
Supernatural spirits whisper and linger
Under dim-lit, age-old, stony stars.
The closeness of the sky breeds
Infinite life and eternal death,
Undistinguishable in the
Ghastly, grey greatness
Consuming the city.
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This poem got me through the day.
ReplyDeleteIt has affection combined with a love for world united issues. I am constanly stuggling to find a better literary piece that fills my heart with such emotion and passion.
Please keep writing.