Chimneys

Chimneys and Clouds
by Philip Dodd

I lay on my bed
head on my pillow,
weary, worn, I looked
out of my window,
dark chimneys and clouds
is all that I saw,
the light and shadow,
I wanted to draw,
in chalk and charcoal,
made me feel tranquil,
that is all, nothing more.

Roused no emotion,
just observation,
dwelt on the present,
the pleasant word combination
of chimneys and clouds.
Feeling playful, I thought,
what about, the other way round,
clouds and chimneys?
Same vision, same sound.
Clouds and chimneys,
high above ground.

I rose from my bed,
paced from my pillow,
pensively, I gazed
out of my window.
Still chimneys and clouds
is all that I saw,
the light and shadow
grew solid and sure.

Felt simple and sane,
not broken, not bored,
by chimneys and clouds,
all else was obscured.

Chimneys and clouds,
light and shadow,
chalk and charcoal,
outside my window.

Chimneys and clouds,
seen from my childhood,
I had to grow up,
got lost in the wild wood.
At last, I came clear,
stood calm and serene.
Chimneys and clouds,
concrete and clean.

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