Читать книгу Out of the Ordinary - Kenneth Steven - Страница 11

The strangeness of that sudden rumble

coming from nowhere yesterday late.

I ran out and stood watching

the faraway threatening skies,

but around us an eerie brightness –

the stillness that comes before storm.

The first flicker – a blink of silver,

seconds later the answering thunder.

I went in and watched from the window,

looked out and into the distance –

the lochan like a light blue stone

brooched in the tweed of the moorland.

The swans in the mirrored water,

so impossibly white to the eyes –

like the remains of snow after winter,

carvings that dipped and bent;

together yet ever themselves –

heads stretching into the west,

into the rain that came from the silence,

the veil that swallowed the day.