, , , , , ,

A short first draft of last weeks notes on our ferry crossing of the channel


Land fades,
we move on,
waiting – but not.
Slow time,
slow low light lost in the storm,

Pacing that sways with the wind and lowering cloud,
empties across the waves
between flashes of sunset.
Light in shadow with no sense of the passing sun
spilling from windows,
spreading over white windswept tops,
cut off before anything more is made of them.

A page turning movement
across the channel.