A blanket of fog throws over my world,
as if stray fallen clouds have been knitted and purled
into wispy woollen wetness that covers and curls
It’s definitely a duvet day, outside and in,
so I huddle in my house and invite my mind to begin
imagining pretend horizons that newly cast and spin
the view beyond.
Like a child with a torch, hiding under the covers
I find brave new worlds to conjure and discover,
I could be any place now, here or a thousand others,
Maybe there are mountains rising only metres away,
or waves crashing to shore mesmerisingly all day.
Perhaps when the blanket lifts, I’ll be looking at May,
This is the way to triumph over thick white gloom,
to retreat right back into your favourite room
and re-design your set design until you can resume