The day is dying

And burnt embers of light

Lie scattered on the horizon.

A sea gull lingers.

Crying  softly-

before slipping into the night sky.

A man and his dog walk.

Leaving the sound of invisible footprints

On an empty street.

In the midst of it all

I stand motionless.

Struck by the awesome-

And the ordinary.

Light and dark

sound and silence.

This day is dying

And it cries softly

Before returning again

And again and again.


By Fiona Lochhead June ’17