Scene By Owl-Light (Poetry)
14th July 2013
No moon tonight — dim scudding mix of cloud and wind —
the sway and swish of sailing branches
on sky’s bitter-black-froth sea.
The crowding firs stand darker — tall above the rest —
and lit by eyes paired out from limb to limb
the trees are lamped by owls.
Thin-beamed these golden searchlights blink and turn —
thread through the bushes — quarter flowerbed and lawn
pick out all mousetails twitching —
hid in grass.
Dazzled by the glare the tremblers halt and freeze
their tiny lives caught out mid-run — mid-breath —
illuminated for a moment —
clear as day.
In night’s open air theatre the old drama’s re-enacted —
each killing swoop a flicker — action blurred
like a silent movie scene.
the sway and swish of sailing branches
on sky’s bitter-black-froth sea.
The crowding firs stand darker — tall above the rest —
and lit by eyes paired out from limb to limb
the trees are lamped by owls.
Thin-beamed these golden searchlights blink and turn —
thread through the bushes — quarter flowerbed and lawn
pick out all mousetails twitching —
hid in grass.
Dazzled by the glare the tremblers halt and freeze
their tiny lives caught out mid-run — mid-breath —
illuminated for a moment —
clear as day.
In night’s open air theatre the old drama’s re-enacted —
each killing swoop a flicker — action blurred
like a silent movie scene.