A nature & reflection poem about looking, rooms, eyes, where attention changes the scale of the ordinary.
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I leave the field, but the looking stays. It follows me through rooms and errands, a small pressure behind the eyes. By morning, the ordinary has changed. Nothing is where I saw it; everything remembers being seen.
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Quiet is not absence but a measurable presence that changes according to distance, attention and care.
A distant figure remains self-contained, carrying an atmosphere the observer cannot own or interpret.
A contemporary poem about after the colour breaks, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
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