The landscape
slips off
in the distance
Steep plummets
of steel stones
and broken shells
Swirling mists
fading into
unnatural light
A touching chill
falling over
rocky beaches
A folded chair
on well-worn path
Facing East
into the mists
and steepest cliff
We all watch
the end
of the world
as chamomile
and honey
draw us
into the fade
I wanted to create something mysterious and dark that spoke of the ephemeral nature of life as we sit and watch the cliffs along a rocky coast. The imagery for this poem came from a trip I took to Maine and sat on a cliff one morning in the misty fading Autumn. It was truly spooky and truly beautiful.