As this 'too too solid flesh' had melted
quite away, astral traveling with hosting Sidhe,
I looked down through a clear, transparent globe
upon the vastness of the universe,
so lost in space as in deep truth we are
though comforted by gravity's packed floor,
and saw beneath my lurch the star-fields spread
but still the blacks were flats of wetted asphalt,
up-loomed tilted histories of beige flagstones
and, silting up the lowlands of these slabs,
dirty puddles strained streetlights' discern.
Christmas may be tidied away in fancy bags,
festive boxes under stairs, but deny these stars,
diamond cutters, poignant scintillae
under this brooding sky?
____________________A change of state:
at each pinpoint where latent heat was lost
a crystal lit its stitch of sequin-dust.
It seemed I had 'the heaven's embroidered cloths'
beneath my feet. So I trod softly, dancing home.
YOU ARE READING
Wintering
PoetryIt's yet another MajorSeventh. Hop on the big shoulders and look ... Lastest poems are always posted last in my collections. Winter. So, expect sparse gardens, late autumn and wintry countryside, wry philosophy and humour, tenderness towards litt...
