Yesterday’s heavy sky hung low and grey, yet the birds seemed unconcerned. Their black-and-white silhouettes drifted between cloud and light, carrying a quiet reminder that even beneath the heaviest skies, nature continues to write its own story. This poem grew from those fleeting moments in flight.
Black and White Bookends
Come fly with me, my friends,
I’ve heard our heavy sky’s on the mend,
defying the world’s breathless trend.
Today is not the end.
Feel free, there’s no need to pretend.
Let us all transcend
this man-made pitchblende.
We are not to be condemned
for wearing nature’s black-and-white portends,
between her unpenned bookends.
The black-and-white birds drifted on beneath a healing sky, while the clouds continued writing their own silent story on the wind.
Nature’s bookends are no longer unpenned. A poem now sits quietly on the shelf between them.
Ivor Steven © November 2026
Love this positive and uplifting poem, my dear friend. Your photos are brilliant and the soundtracking is perfect. Hope you had a lovely Sunday; here it is now 9:46 AM; is it midnight/1 AM there? With the time change, I need an abacus to figure it all out! 🥰 🌎 🕰️❓ 🧮 🌏 😎
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Well it’s now 3.00am Monday here in Geelong and it’s 11.00am Sunday there in New York … so now instead of being 14 hours behind, you are 16 hours behind (we’re on daylight saving too) and everything is just now more tiring, or maybe trying for this old poet on the other side of the world 🥰🌏📖🎶😴
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Oh boy, I hear that, my friend! 😴
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Any more of these time confusing things and I’ll be falling over the edge my friend 🌏
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Very nice, Ivor 😄
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Thank you very much, Robbie 🤗📖🌏
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