Night Manager

The outline of the giant’s back
Outlines the
Southern moor
The first charcoal line of
Landscape drawn
Separation of land and sky;
Feint is the contrast; 
Though a glow,flanks the far western edge
Illumination   
From a sleeping suburban sprawl 
Seen only on the darkest of nights. 
Defining so many shades of grey
That draws the eye.


The stillness has depth
And is rare upon our ridge,
Affording privilege at this hour 
To be 
With
Solitude and perception
Tracing each contour etched across the uplands;

A tiny pinprick of light marks a moorland farm
No lights above, though occasionally there are
Walkers who seek out the beacon
For its grandeur and solitude
Tonight it’s in solemnity
Only 
A nighttime freight train
Rumbles round the contour 
Its sound amplified when all else is stilled
Like the breath of the giant itself.
To observe is to be;
To be is contentment…
To be with…

The night manager.