“close at hand”

by Debbie Robson

Stand here at the edge and take it

all in. The limitless close at hand, 

the flat surface that goes on forever

and we pass every day unseeing.

A dance of white horses or azure

tinsel hard enough to walk on.

So many visions beyond the cliff,

the parked cars and the track

winding down.        The sea. 

Always washing our shores, 

assuaging, pounding the fringes 

of our awareness. The sound loud 

at night, sometimes that we hear

faintly in our sleep.     Stop 

this time as you pass by. Wait 

if only for a moment to look out 

at the straight line that curves 

around the globe, that meets 

the sky and is further away 

than you think. The place of 

the sun’s first rays and across 

a continent, the dying light sets 

as you watch the waves roll in 

and neatly tie up all our days.

Debbie Robson loves to write fiction set in the first sixty years of the last century. She has had stories published in Storgy, Words and Whispers, The Birdseed and others and poetry in Blood Tree Literature, Banyan Review, Dwelling Literary, Wine Cellar Press and more. She tweets @lakelady2282.