Tonight (Time and Distance)

Tonight (Time and Distance)

It’s windy tonight. 

The telegraph wires rolling under the skies, skimming clouds, racing inland from the sunsetting west. 

And the road winds, grey in haste and evening black, a distant car growls and blinks, hurrying homeward before the hiss and blow of the last of showers. 

For above, there is a racing moon behind the skies, the silence of stars, the cusp of shattered hillsides, the end of summer, slipping into August.

For the end of days still holds, and yet stands within the ancient oak,its leaves crisp, dry.

Crumpled greens at the crossroads, where an empty lane from the twilight east runs, flows, into the last fires and glows of a fading west.

And just here, here beside the red letter box, the abandoned footpath, the ancient sign blindly pointing into a trespassing dark, there are no footsteps.

Just byways, the whispers of passing hours beneath the hidden churchyard.

The bell tower chiming into the gloaming, calling, calling into the memories of a distance long since passed.

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