North
The Angel almost
ambushed us.
The trees turn
more beautiful
with every mile.
Tyne at low tide.
Network of bridges,
trains crossing.
Four in the morning.
Crescent moon
in dark sky. The silence.
Churchyard gravestones
look like people
in camera's flashlight.
The blinking of the internet.
Every day,
a new start.
I was a dying man.
Now everything seems
possible again.
We will be searching
for red squirrels
and Northern Lights.
Greg Freeman
Sat 12th Nov 2022 23:14
I'm very glad you liked it, John.