these brooding hills.
furrowed angry brows,
with heavy lids
glare at the waters
as the boats skulk by.
even the ripples are subdued
whilst the wind hides from the grey.

dark cliffs,
their colours emptied
into the shadows,
impassive and sullen.
they stare me down,
and i sink in the cold empty air.

the water laps lazily at the stone wall,
limply bringing in the tide,
blackened like soot scattered on a sheet.
the jetty, pokes it's fingers into
this cold and callous waterway,
standing on it's wooden legs
old trees that have been banished from the warm earth.

I shrink within my space, high up here,
behind the naked trees.
I draw my soul around me
and wait for the night.
only the birds have escaped the drabness of
the dimming day.
they fly, with a flap of wings, squawking their taunts
at the earth below,
and we bow our heads even lower
as we remain rooted to the ground.