Early at the head of the lake
In yellow ochre sunrise
two herons—clean, innocent
—rise and escape
the horizon. Beyond,
a million orbs
of morning dust,
every one fighting
for attention.
Reaching out, five
still-new fingers try
for feathers and sunlight.
It’s no use. The grasping
hand catches nothing.
But, see: in an open
palm, held out in front
(like this) the dawn
glow spills over
and is yours.
Daniel Nixon is a writer, poet and musician who lives on the southern edge of the Peak District. His poems have been appeared in Anthropocene and Spelt, and he is currently studying for a Creative Writing MA at Manchester Metropolitan University.
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