It's been very Dickensian in Kent over the past few days, with the fields wreathed in mist. One of my classes has been working on a descriptive writing project, and we used the fog that had blanketed the school fields and left the wooded hills beyond mere green tips emerging from a frothing sea of white as inspiration for our pieces, as well as this atmospheric poem by Sylvia Plath.
Sheep in Fog
The hills step off into whitness
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them
The train leaves a line of breath
Horse the colour of rust
Hooves, dolorous bells -
All morning the
Morning has been blackening.
A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.