This fall of cloak on paths ahead
reminds that recall of the past
has mazed into a hazy place.
Recurring mare, that daily task,
in synapse smog; remembering
is a foggy journey, blind space.
Slow driving into winter dusk,
this forecast cage without escape –
the misty road, a foretaste, age,
sees veiled soup, grey gauzy veil,
clogged cloudy shroud of shades from past.
At least those ghosts accompany.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales, UK, from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces curated and published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including Poetry Potion. He has, like so many, been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com