The Eye

Send us Fan MailThe EyeClouds have fallen, hugging the slow-tilled sky of an autumnal tinted reflected earth, breathing in wisps of smoke and fires, hintingof morning and of grey, suffusing the bending figures of trees with shrouds and mists of silver and the hooded cloak of silence, for dawn still sleeps, beyond the hidden shadows, behind the cage of city lights, pressing against the darkness, for it is still early, the streets, are empty, stray cars slowly weave into the patches of fog, hanging in veils and ragged curtains. As beneath the static glare of abandoned street lamps. Something stirs. Slowly at first, then a gradual crease of light, an eye peers behind hedges, and walls,where the crumbling facades and crooked windows, and the blinking reflections of the first glimpses are of an awakening day, for the wind lifts himself, shakes off the dripping branches of a million droplets, and as many leaves falling, falling   into the soft, almost grateful embrace of a slumbering earth, and again,the eye opens, the wind shivers, the first blackbirds stumble into song upon the topmost branches of tree-touching sky, along the telegraph poles and beside the first puffing chimney and smoke of autumn fires, the eye glows, pale, from smudge to smudge to fullness, from mustard yellow to rose petal red, it’s shadows stretching and yawning, the wind revitalised, slips between the thinning darkness, the sharpening fingers of light and cajoles the fog in clouds and whispers,between the trees, the hanging branches, the shuttered dreams of a retreating night.For the eyethe sun, winks, obligingly,and lifts the sky to welcome the [email protected]