Thin Places
Each morning what is familiar is seen
again, as we awaken out of night
and our part of Earth spins round into light -
that day-shift still traveling while they dream.
Continents, neighbourhoods striped in darkness
and sunlight, oceans tilted warm then cold -
it is this interchange that grows the world,
makes the soft grey overlap that stretches
out the dusk, the mist that blurs the morning
land. Thin places, the Celts said, where the deep
bleeds through and shifts the hardened shape of things,
a clearing like the night that mimics sleep.
This is the world riddle that we answer
when we see one depth within the other.