On Tuesday morning, I forgot my book, so gazed out the window of the 7:30 bus winding down from Dartmoor into Exeter. I took the images I saw into the darkroom of my Soul and melded them with words. I borrowed a pen from the lady at the cafe and painted a picture of the morning.
A smudge of sun rises through the mist
to bathe the morning in pearlescence.
Proud winter trees stand over spiky frosted fields,
holding white twigged branches aloft.
They soften and undulate into the brumous distance.
Blackbirds quarrel in the hedgerows.
an azure sky holds a waning sickle,
poised to reap another day.
– Melinda Schwakhofer, 2017