Peter Howitt
1 min readNov 8, 2016

(Mountain Village, Copyright Adrian Cabedo)

The light appears
To paint the town into being

Here and there
A deft dab
Of colour flares
On smoke swirls

And being is conjured
From the seeming nothing

The day that follows
Defines the night that falls

Without it
There would be no night

And the darkness
Would be a deathness

The night that falls
Is another day rising

Without it
What would we see?

So much lightness
A kind of blindness…



Peter Howitt

father, husband, ecommerce lawyer, part-time poet — rushing through the vast astonishment