OVER THE HILLS
Vast banks, bluffs of clouds are moving steadily,
unerringly it seems, from the west – some
darkling with the makings of rain, others white
like the little egret that rises
from the sunlit reeds, and flies westwards, across
the wide estuary to Wales and a channel
of open water. Beyond is a range
of low hills, whose fields are bright with sunlight
or deep shadowed by chance clouds. Out of sight
are mountains, valleys, coastlines, a sea.
The little egret’s ancestors have travelled
aeons for just this imagined moment:
reflections passing in fleeting water –
a white bird, shaped, hulled, like a feathered
sailing clipper, and islands of cumulus.
Harvey Lillywhite
October 31, 2025Ah. Yes.
The little egret’s ancestors have travelled
aeons for just this imagined moment:
reflections passing in fleeting water –
a white bird, shaped, hulled, like a feathered
sailing clipper, and islands of cumulus.
I think they call it the tip of the spear…where we are right now. Well described by you.