The sky’s translucent. A milky haze of mist
gives substance to the air, a thin and sloppy
semolina. It cloaks us and the land
beneath our feet. I shiver bitterly.
Beside this winter garb, the earth is bare,
with not a bloom or waking bud in sight.
Standing mutely watching us go past,
the sheep appear resigned, their fleeces stained.
Above, a glider sails the milky sea.
It moves in circles, like a silent bird
of prey, only it never swoops. Below,
I turn my collar up and press on home.
Went for a walk around my parents’ house today. Lovely, but it’s taken much of the rest of the day to warm up again!
(26.01.26)
Ode for the Day 