Murmur

~

as we crested the brow of the hill

and looked down across the

gentle sweep of the land

two fields away, across 

the dull ochre plough 

as we were about to lose

the light, a movement

rising above the canopy

that smudged our horizon, 

you asked if it was smoke,

then you realised, surprised,

a languorous sweep of balletic 

atoms forming and reforming

with the grace of black chiffon

taken up on the wind,

we both suggested shapes

that dispersed faster than

our words could take flight

leaving you to question 

if these creatures knew

how beautiful they were

*

© Graham R Sherwood 02/24