A poem by Lisa Matthews, following a walk from Low Newton towards Beadnell
Tuesday, a sunrise of skies
This was meant as an eastward prayer
a forget-you-not promise
a curl of a wave in the water
a worn moment of tread on the stair
but when I got to the bend in the estuary
the sky became unique, and multifaceted
there was a dog and its walker
or a walker and their dog
there was a colony of seabirds
a flooded field, a broken fence post
there was a feeling that I had been here
many times, and for many reasons
but I could not remember any of them.
There is a sky and the others above it.
There is now, this moment, this air.
