foulweather

14 September 2023

i wear strange and ill-fitting hats to keep the thoughts warm

or hidden

while i

type type type

tap tap tap

high up above the cracked paving slabs

in this ancient cold attic

tall oaks sway in the wind, just outside my tiny window

awaiting leaves turning the dense fog that sweeps off the sea into droplets

i am engulfed in cloud

my hearing is fuzzy

my patience is low

my thoughts unclear

i will snap before the oak

mucus drips on the keyboard

i am dizzy tired

a poem a day

until i am clear

and unbounded

from words