Rainclouds press the sea’s

horizon, moist fingerprints

on the curtain of dawn.
To the west,

hunched shoulders of mountains

barely visible through

the cloak of gathered mist.
This could be a day

given to darkness and the ghosts

of regret stalking time

across this shadowed landscape.

We could look and only believe

in the light of a sun

groping towards uncertain

revelation. Or we

could surrender to

unknowing, and in that know

only our innocence. We could

have eyes for the shimmer
of grace on the matted grey

of a murmuring sea,

watching as this sun lifts now into

an eternity of sky.
Andrew Colliver


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