'From my Window' by Gill Johnson

From My Window in Crawley

A poem by Gill Johnson


A grey, dingy, January morning
Clouds leaden, deaden, the grimy sky.
Wind rushes, pushes, caresses the birches
Bowed, cowed, wafting bare branches
Slate silver, skinny trunks moving.

Ancient terracotta roof tiles in rows
Patterned; yellow, mellow moss laden
Chimney flue new, straightened smoke stack
Lying, spying, quietly guarding
Those below in cheery warmth.

Sedgy green brown fields, lost and lonely
Grasses wasted, pasted, growing wild
Fences leaning, keening, creaking move
While breezes teases and ruffle,
As animals scuffle and shuffle to shelter.

Over my light and green, grassy garden
Jackdaws, black, fours, dots in the sky soar
Playing and swaying, held in the air.
Wheeling and gliding, floating and diving
To the heathery, leathery timbered woods.

Bursting from clouds in unexpected light
Watery sun, shines, redefines the view.
Concealing, revealing, palettes of blue,
Paints, acquaints, gilds and rebuilds
Transforming this, January morning.

© Gill Johnson

This poem can be viewed on the Writing Hampshire map: http://www3.hants.gov.uk/arts-service/developing-arts/arts-for-everyone/...