I step outside at midnight,
air drenched with woodsmoke,
dash of peat, a single cow
complaining, her troubled breath
weaving over the low hedges,
all birds tucked away
but there is movement still,
some shy creature wrapping itself
away in unassailable darkness,
and in the sky above
galaxies have gathered,
stars turns on star,
silver glitter and tinsel streamers
tumble down to the waiting earth,
the entire universe
assembles around my questions,
and I am drunk on raw ice.
Poems and Poetry is completely reader supported, please help me keep it going.
Have you read Guy Farmer's social justice poetry book now available on Amazon?
Read poems by Guy Farmer on this site.