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Horizons ©

Nat Hall
Sandwick, Shetland
2005

I watch this sky,
cold,
oppressive,
broken -
lost in long
corridors of clouds;
haunting,
daunting,
through
hissing wind.
I steer my
eyes out towards sea
to anchor them
on a beacon -
tallest of cliffs,
triangular,
defiant
in geometry
on a tight rope,
this thin blue line that
divides us,
you, in heaven,
me below
clouds
between now and
eternity.

Another look, another line...

My soul disturbed by
a merlin at eye level; gangs
of starlings flushed in
a flash - I feel their fear,
haunted,
daunted by claws and wings
that will not crash.

My horizons blinded by mist,
I sit alone on this
hillside;
I drink the
tears of those starlings,
wandering ghosts
tied to the
wind,
aggressive
sky.



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