a bleak january evening approaching ethereality
on a railway bridge
as the fog’s falling byssine, and brilliantly, around me.
in the hedgerows, the blackthorn and hazels are blossoming.
and everything else is moving underneath, quietly,
you can’t see it but there’s beauty blooming silently, silently.
it waits for the spring.
my uninterrupted attention is prayer.
what celestial circumstance brought me here?
there’ll be a blood moon tonight, the last for ten years.
selenelion sunlight scattered by atmosphere
until it turns rust-red peculiar
and then disappears.
(i’m going to try valerian tea tonight, maybe i’ll sleep a little better)