Read introduction

Written in a country lane during the partial eclipse 20/3/15.


Yacht_at_mooring_wood_blockby athena kathy22 Mar 2015

No breath of wind.
The sky is being squeezed of light,
Wrung out like a cloth.

In the lane with its
Faint mist of green
I stand where the road disappears.

The world holds its breath.

I wait for the birds to stop singing
Or perhaps hang motionless in mid-flight
Above the cock-eyed world.

Long-tailed tits swim like minnows
Through a murky tank;
The skylark’s song goes on falling
Straight to earth
Each note dropping in turn;
And cawing crows
Still fleck the sky
Like scraps of
Burnt paper.

Tides do not surge;
No planets spin away.
And instead of howling at the stars
Dogs doze untroubled
As if they know this little night,
This little death,
Will end
This time
in a simple dawn,
Like any other.