Looking westward at sunrise,
we found colour on the far horizon
and in our disorientation
drew back to watch the rising sun
whisper to cushion-clouds
as it briefly held a painter’s blend
of feathered flames and fustian greys.
And all this, where it was not supposed to be.
The promise of daybreak had broken westward
and we could no longer, on that morning,
gaze softly to the east in daily reverence,
prayerful and obeisant
in the still and forming light.
We were, by some irregular enchantment,
called to reorder expectation.
And then, upon reflection,
knew the natural world as teacher,
and in a moment’s realisation,
found our selves awoken
and completely rearranged.
Martin @ 2021