CHRISTOPHER THOMSONOUTSCAPES
OUTSCAPES - Nearer Closer OUTSCAPES - No More Fish

Fallible Horizon

I hadn’t wanted to be on the aeroplane.
The clouds were clearer on this side
and, heading south, the day was prolonged.
In the depths of the soft ridges of the spreading field
the constellations of tomorrow’s cities shone 
as silently from the distant past as the dust of so many stellar explosions.
The light travelled on
and all was forgiven
or forgotten,
I never knew.