Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

There are mornings, sunstruck and azure, which wake us with the offer of
                                                                                   redemption.
          The park shines white with dew.
The past heals like thawing sores of frost, and, driving to work or 
                                                                                   wherever, recedes
         like cat’s-eyes, over your shoulder.
On the empty coast, lace-cuffed waves no longer pound the seaboard like
                                                                                   a piano; a
         lake’s stillness extends to the slow,
directionless tacking of handkerchief sails, and a phantom flottilla of 
                                                                                   tankers fogging at
         the mind’s stretched circumference.
A long-disembodied globe-trotting breeze fans the surface to unhurried
                                                                                   corrugations;
         the sea’s steady, indefatigable metre,
end-stopping at your numb shingle-sunk feet in whispers of affirmation
                                                                                   . . . yes, listen:
         whispers of affirmation.
A stray, tatty cloud, like a dark half-thought ripped from a full one, vaguely
                                                                                   threatens,
         then dissolves in forgetfulness.
Immaculate light from the swelling sun corrals shadow into cold corners;
                                                                                   elucidates
         let-downs and hopes that we have
no names – names which previously had vexed you, heavy as the
                                                                                   philosopher’s stone.
         These mornings, at the point where
the world’s  renewed, you are rich, pure potential, sailing through yourself
                                                                                   in a prayer-
         like trance of exultant equipoise.