A Berwick grey picture

Fog’s upon Berwick, I’ve already boasted and sent texts saying too much,

I’m at risk of losing myself to vanity, trapped within, in my own gloomy thinking

I’ll find the path I’m looking for, this morning,

Set out upon a path back to the moon,

Moon weeping, come closer, to my arms, darling,

For love is the only real thing worth holding

And in holding, moon, fog, earth, tracks of a white cockatoo,

My path to you, filled with song, love rising in this fog