Solitary Walker in the Mist

 

Above,

an upturned bowl of mist,

neither light nor shadow falling to break my solitude,

as I walk the lanes.

Grey shapes loom,

trees and hedgerows stand alone,

waiting, waiting,

 once more to see and know each other, when light returns.

Silently dripping into the earth,

all life suspended.

Nebulous ghosts swirl around me,

regrets, like wraiths, rise from the darkness

as cold tears embrace me.

Dense air, unheeding of the solitary walker, shivers ahead.

Feet stumble,

held captive momentarily by greedy sods,

clinging to the only life there is,

unwilling to let go.

The chariot of the Sun God

has abandoned the earth;

angry riders gallop across the sky,

speed and billowing menace their only purpose.

 My heart weeps too,

longing for joy and ease of living,

seeing

all hope buried in sodden graves.

o-o-o-o

And then,

hidden among the fallen leaves of yesteryear

pressed into the mud by unceasing rain,

shiny heads of new life emerge

into a brave new world.

Winter aconites beam a golden glow into the gloom,

  tiny chalices of light, encircled by a glossy crown,

they promise rebirth.