Equinox Eve

Poetry practice was delayed until evening today. But I have kept up with a poem a day now for a week. Wouldn’t Miss Mildred be impressed if I had been as diligent with my piano etudes as I have been with pounding out words.

The sunset last night was inspiration for today’s offering. Yesterday was very rich in countless ways. Wholly, a gift. The Haiku PoeTree Walk on the Cavan Burren had a relaxed group. A frog hopped out at us at the Calf Hut Dolmen, which felt like I little benediction from the haiku master Basho. (Who was a cat man if his haiku on Love and Barley is to be believed. Given that that this week a certain cat has often hovered close by during poetry practice. I suspect he is auditioning for the position as muse.)

But it isn’t haiku, but a kind of elation that came upon me as I walked our little dog Obe back home down our lane.

At 7pm on Equinox Eve

I want to go out like September
in the bonfire blaze before sunset
such that all will remember
its juice and its shine and jewelled light.

I want to go out and bathe in its truly blue sky,
all crisp and cool, with wisps of cottonwool cloud
writing omens that scud by.

I want to go out like this September night
with its equal light and shade
where nothing at all is vague
in its angle of light.

I want to go out like September
that wears it heart on its shirtsleeve
when it comes time to take my leave.

For a life to sink gloriously down
just as this September sun shows me how.
I want go out as elated
as this evening’s last light.

Copyright 2018 Bee Smith

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