WINDBLOWN



The howling gale subsides
to lullaby proportions -

the wind’s bluster
suddenly becalmed -

I watch the scudding clouds -
their bellies washed

by a low surfing sun -
no-one has told them

to stop their scurrying
so I return to mine.


Malcolm Evison
27 January 2008


Displaying Not Disclosing



low cloud diffuses light
yet draws my sight

beyond it's own opacity
this grey tinged sky

defies all understanding

sun bathed it strives
to shield my eyes

from the radiance
that lies beyond its curtain

                    Malcolm Evison
                      4 February 2008



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