From my seat I survey the slumbering valley
Low-lying haze lingering awaiting the sun
Still air not disturbing nor whisper ruffling
The feathers of the stationary wood pigeon
Its solitary sentry, perched a top its pole

A murmuration glides elliptically sweeping
Forerunners perhaps of the morning’s wake
Pylons bisecting, stark across the horizon
Lone hint of humanity otherwise obscured
Except bare rooftops from this bedroom view

But gradually grey infects the day’s potential
Draining greens and yellows from tree and field
Viewed across this dip through which the Lea drains
Thames-ward to empty its life-giving waters
Rain’s curtain descends, this scene comes to an end

A rare breakfast in bed this morning afforded me a view out of our bedroom window across the Lea Valley. It seemed I was not alone in a slow start, with the view equally languid other than a flock of starlings sweeping past.

(16.10.21)

© Ben Quant 2021