Thursday, 16 April 2015

Poem 14/30 yes, I actually did this.



I knew it was a cliché but couldn’t help myself.

Driving home from a countryside gig

I succumbed to the song of the stars

clear-voiced without the white noise of polluting light.


I like to think the car pulled itself over,

nestled gently again the verge

like a dog nuzzling its owner

desperate for the contact that says “Welcome home”.


In the stretched silence, this vaulted canopy

satin-stitched with pulses of light

puts on a show, photons finishing their

until now, uninterrupted journey.


As pupils dilate, the shyer stars

show their face, refracted flecks of energy,

populating the sky with distant candles;

a cloak of wonder, secrets and security.

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