#writing201 #fog #elegy #metaphor

Elegy for Edinburgh

On this night in February,
I watch pinprick starlight
faintly disturb darkness.
The moon, sublime,
not quite round yet,
not quite white, hangs low
and you weave your black magic
over me.
O city of sights
and gothic architecture!
O city of the 56th North!
You fill me with the memories
of days lost and lyrics
lying scattered
on the sidewalk…

When the haar* rolls in
from the Firth
and covers all of your
presence –
the stars, the moon –
all snuffed out candles,
I feel as though
a curtain has been pulled over
the eyes of my mind.
Rest now, good night.

*Scots word referring to a cold sea fog on the east coast of Scotland.