Those Northern Lights
I start my walk as dusk advances. Clouds
build heavy clusters, grey and black against
the darker sky. I follow well-known tracks
that glisten and reflect the light, making
textured ribbons, easy to follow in
that sparkling, vivacious darkness. The sun
has set, leaving fading glimmers above
the black slash of woods round the horizon.
I read with joy the scale from light to dark,
I stop, amazed, that the blue sky is shot
with yellow, orange, grey, that hedges
can have silver tints, and trees
in the full glory of summer green
can slowly creep through
all the shades from gold to black.
Miraculous transformations.
For a short while the world is pure delight,
no complexes, no ifs or buts - perfection.
- and then the floodlights flare.
Have you ever heard the noise a bright light makes?
That evening, floodlights sounded like
a thousand trumpets playing out of tune,
and over there, above the silent darkness,
cymbals clashing, armies stamping, city lights
bounced and jangled off the clouds, and
elbowed from their tracks the gentle
creatures of the night.
I stoop, and try to mend
the broken spell. Not possible.
I turn back to my home.
davicletay Jan 2004
I start my walk as dusk advances. Clouds
build heavy clusters, grey and black against
the darker sky. I follow well-known tracks
that glisten and reflect the light, making
textured ribbons, easy to follow in
that sparkling, vivacious darkness. The sun
has set, leaving fading glimmers above
the black slash of woods round the horizon.
I read with joy the scale from light to dark,
I stop, amazed, that the blue sky is shot
with yellow, orange, grey, that hedges
can have silver tints, and trees
in the full glory of summer green
can slowly creep through
all the shades from gold to black.
Miraculous transformations.
For a short while the world is pure delight,
no complexes, no ifs or buts - perfection.
- and then the floodlights flare.
Have you ever heard the noise a bright light makes?
That evening, floodlights sounded like
a thousand trumpets playing out of tune,
and over there, above the silent darkness,
cymbals clashing, armies stamping, city lights
bounced and jangled off the clouds, and
elbowed from their tracks the gentle
creatures of the night.
I stoop, and try to mend
the broken spell. Not possible.
I turn back to my home.
davicletay Jan 2004
