Morning Run

Out the unlocked alarmed front door, turn left and go
An early morning run for me, nothing unusual there.
The skies clear, breeze low, nice, just right.

A low curving bend, over the road, down the hill,
Aware that I was picking up pace over ground
So I was not expecting IT then at all, not at all.

A sheet of golden riot, lacquered deep red gilded sun
Clouds fanning the splendour into warm flames
William Blake, master of the heavens, is awake this morn

Appreciating it over much, I turned and jogged on.
Slow, nice, puffing as the hill started to rise under me,
And what I had enjoyed down rose up ahead.

But now, just minutes later, the fight of gold and grey
Over, finished - cloaks thrown down and the sun free
To bathe all those few out to see it and smile

Clouds scattered, armed golden spears startling the birds
An extreme beauty for me and it seemed no-one but me.
So I stopped and paused and drank the view in

The home and town ahead, I pressed on, and laughed
Allenby Drive came first - Field Marshall Edmund Allenby
Entered Jerusalem, the victor 11th December 1917

The deep beauty of Blake's Jerusalem over Allenby's triumph
Was not and should not be builded here, please no!
For the morning natural perfection of sun, cloud and breeze
A welcome unexpected injunction of beauty for me to recall.


Southwell, 6th October 2016