<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The Mist no victors of the battle, it is meaningless, it is beautiful \u2013 Perhaps, like the land and water, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Seth Crook<\/strong> taught philosophy at various universities and then moved to the Hebrides.\u00a0 He doesn’t like cod philosophy in poetry, but likes cod, poetry and philosophy.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Mist rolls in, hangs over the heather, and on these evenings our landscape feels like an aftermath, no victors of the battle, everything waiting for the corbies, to pick the eyes; it is meaningless, it is beautiful \u2013 and we must hold these two thoughts, together somehow. Perhaps, like the land […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3659","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3659","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3659"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3659\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3661,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3659\/revisions\/3661"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3659"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3659"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3659"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/strong>
\nrolls in, hangs over the heather,
\nand on these evenings
\nour landscape feels like an aftermath,<\/p>\n
\neverything waiting for the corbies,
\nto pick the eyes;<\/p>\n
\nand we must hold these
\ntwo thoughts, together somehow.<\/p>\n
\nthey can only seem to fit,
\nbut the mist says otherwise.<\/p>\n