When a photo cannot do justice only a poem will do
You may not see these midsummer nights
the long twilight stretching pink fingers
out from the palm of midnight
across the western horizon.
But I can.
Furthermore,
a plumping moon eight months gone
glows
Her soft satisfied light bluing the night,
the trees, their leaves.
Venus sparkles stage right.
The Fat Lady and her twinkling diminutive friend
pierce the gathering dark
with their different brightness.
Elated, I run down the lane in my pyjamas,
greeting both like long lost women friends
ones unmet since we shared our youth,
our brightness lighting up the dark.
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This is a glorious poem, Bee… Thank you.
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I love this poem Bee. It’s so evocative & atmospheric. I feel like I’m there with you in your beautiful, magical lane.
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The imagery in this one was just exquisite. Honestly, I adored it… I am no longer young, but can still run. I think that I might just do that, arms outstretched, to greet all the moons of my life. Just as I did in my morning days, running more than a little wild… Thank you.
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Really vivid imagery there and I love the final line. We all have a brightness we can share. Bee, thanks for sharing yours.
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Thanks for the comment. Hope to see you this autumn
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It’s true, a poem can do justice to our memories better than a picture. Love what you did here–the scene is vivid and the emotion palpable. Love that last line–some friends always come back.
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