But, at least

On the rocks again,
doing what I must do.

Feeling the breeze,
my consciousness open

– like the wings of the cormorant,
whose feathers the warm morning wind is drying
with tenderness today.

There is no sun,
clouds have wrapped the sky
into a silken, pale grey shawl.

While I sit, with my silver pen,
on the blue rock, feeling
neither bright nor shiny, but,
at least, writing.

– Silke Heiss, 12th January 2023