That view.

Clouds stack and tower from the horizons.
Mountains that aren’t there rise,
above the masts and moorland.

Lights flicker to,
one by ten by twenty and so on,
as darkness rolls through.

Distinct dots of yellow glow at the foot
turn to orange haze where they meet
the damp, folorn sky.

And the air stagnates til dawn,
when the valley yawns wide.

Photograph: Sally Roberts

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