Heavy with mist

In the garden
In the cool of the day
The Lord God came
Looking for those who
Struggled to hide

Untruths from the heat
Of the day, exposed
In the twilight, man:
Born in the morning
Undesigned for the night

That long imminent night
Of flaming swords
Of banishment. An exile
Kneading its strange magic:
A longing to return

In King’s Wood
In the cool of after-dawn
Boots on the hillside, up
To the flaking plaster
Triangulation point

I climbed and gazed East
Into the face of the sun
Or would have
But the air was heavy
Blurred with humidity

Birdsong, muffled in
A wall of water hanging
Just above the ground
Clinging to the sky
Saturating the world

Obscuring the sunrise
Until the heavy mist
Burned clear
And I,
With eyes open, saw

What was always there
The grass beneath my feet
A lone mushroom
A startled rabbit
A languid cow

And disinterested sheep
Mowing the hillside
Sung to by skylarks
And ancient warblers.
For a moment

I was no longer here
But home
In the farm tracks
And dry-stone walls
Of Eden