The thickest, grey tarpaulin,
of an overcast sky,
deepening grey, in minutes first,
then, each second,
the full spectrum,
of the colour,
from beginning to end.
The rain, misting,
matching the greying.
Not quite night, not quite light.
Unsure of what, I can see,
colours and shades,
in transition, to ‘the blackening’.
Morning or night?
What day, week, month,
date or season., would be right?
The globing darkness,
drenching the grey,
painting the trees, fields,
houses and roads,
until, the return of the sun,
in the morning,
would strip, the black,
slowly and wash it away,
with the brightest of sunrises.
Poem by Gavin Bourke
Gavin Bourke, grew up, in Dublin. He holds a B.A. in Humanities, from Dublin City University, an M.A. Degree in Modern Drama Studies and a Higher Diploma in Information Studies, from University College Dublin. His work broadly covers, nature, time, memory, addiction, mental health, human relationships, the inner and outer life, creating meaning and purpose, politics and contemporary and historical social issues, in English and to a lesser extent, in the Irish Language. He is published widely internationally. His first collection, Towards Human, will be published, in April 2020, in the UK.