Shrouded Blakeney…
Early morning dullness pervaded the Quay, a stillness,
A dank coldness, a misty coastal silence, an eerie presence,
Pierced only by a predatory marsh harrier, easing down into dull reeds.
An egret preened and a pair of pigeons perched in a spindly wintery tree ignored
The raptor’s slinking and delving nearby, as a weak sun’s pallid brightness
Began to appear, a wraith rising above Cley, struggling through the essence
Of a fog’s grim mass. Soon the harrier rose again slowly, its deeds
Incomplete and from the gaseous mustard depths into the clearing sky it soared…
Pete Ray
23rd March 2025…
Early Sunday morning, foggy, the sun barely breaking through over Cley.
A harrier delved, pigeons took little notice, a single egret preened and some of the ground mist looked dull yellow, reminding me of Word War One mustard gas lingering over trenches…
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