The valleys are dark and snowless
Up here it is bright
Even on the edge of night
Silver light shines
From luminous fields
It's peaceful and still
Bitterly cold
My grip on the bars is tight
Worries
fluttering like little pipits
My head is full of questions
Where shall I steer to?
What if I fall?
Avoiding
The shiniest part of the road
I'm careful on my way
And the blanket of mist
That sits over Marsden
Lit in gold by the rising sun
Is beautiful.
#CoSopoetry
@matty7w
I love that image…”the blanket of mist…Lit in gold by the rising sun…”. This makes me think of the line in Frosts poem November Guest: “she’s glad her simple worsted grey is silver now with clinging mist”