The Visitor

For the eighth November, we have a poem about how nature can suddenly remind you that as humans we are just so small and insignificant.

Made of sticks and stones

The sunlight wavers
As clouds scud low
Above the surface of the moor.
A scarred moonscape it seems to me
But what do I know,
For my body no longer feels like my own.
Wind eddies swirl
Alien emotions wash over me;
I’m think this is my planet
Just not my home.

© 2019 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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