No longer allied to the wind’s assault, the rain
relents, declaring an overdue cease-fire with
the stoical rocks, the exhausted dunes of peat.
It will be a fleeting peace; a window for the
sheepish light to soften into, a mere candle-flash
in the silence, but just enough for you to call
negotiations with the moment, take a brace
of deliberate, steadying breaths before noticing
yourself again, a fresh mark on an ancient canvas.
Robert Ford‘s poetry has appeared in print and online publications in the UK, US and elsewhere, including The Interpreter’s House, Brittle Star, Butcher’s Dog and San Pedro River Review. More of his work can be found at https://wezzlehead.wordpress.com/