Sunrise from St Michael’s Tower Daybreak, tangerine bands already streak across stretched out sky. If the heavens do speak of glory then surely here, where each cold stone remembers the caress of angels and every breeze is a song. But I have been in church lately and found nothing. Below the fields lie shimmering and willow steeples call across the floodwater. The dawn seeps upwards and ink-blot clouds begin to show and I think I might walk, weightless and unashamed across the meniscus of this new day.
Alice Watson is a new poet, a priest, and a mother to young children based in Northamptonshire, England. She is inspired by the natural world and her faith. She has had work published in Earth and Altar and Dreich. She chats about faith, ministry, and feminism (amongst other things) on Twitter @alicelydiajoy.
Amethyst Review 