A superior being has chiselled away at me
leaving a hollow space with no words,
no rhythm, no poetry,
nothing but puzzles.
My feckless muse is dumb
having lost lucidity
to a perplexing foreign tongue
in a struggle to make sense
of this luminous sunrise
staining the sky with flame.
photo by No.1 son Robin Smith, taken from our previous house
Others will have made more sense of this bunch of disconnected words at the Sunday Whirl