Tomorrow when you wake

You will find your garden has been taken

If you dare to venture outside

You will see no town where a town was before.

Cold-hearted fog will have gathered all about him

And clutched it all to himself. Nothing familiar

Or comforting will remain beyond your doorstep

But if the smothering silence

Laid down by the freezing mist

Should chance to unnerve you.

Fear not.

Because the sun, though at first hidden from view

Will be striving to beat a path through to you.

Before midday his orange face will appear

To the south, high up in the mist,

And you will feel, if not his warmth, at least the promise

Of his warmth.

Treacherous fog will have no answer to the sun’s growing power

And, turning, will flee the battleground

Leaving the sky a pure spotless blue.

Awash with sunshine.

The proud sun will chase the frozen tears from the eyes

Of your Ox Eye daisies

And he will reign gloriously over your garden.


Until, at last, wearied by his battle with the elements

He relents and slips gently down towards the edge of the world.

Then stealthy clouds will reappear,

Flattened clouds in a mackerel sky

Backlit by reflections of the fading sun’s blood.

And thus the day will end.

On Wednesday there should be a fresher feel to things

As a cold front moves in from the Atlantic.










About highamwriters

A group of recreational creative writers and if you ask us nicely we will let you publish some of our work
This entry was posted in John Lary, Poets Corner. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s