Iron Nights
The preternatural hum of the mercury arc
Silhouettes the leafless trees;
Through iron grey clouds
The moon, awesome in her bright fullness,
Tears her way to shine
Down upon the quiet streets.
Huge dark houses contrast
The brilliantly illuminated avenues
And punctuate the silence.
With the stillness I am one;
Alone in my retreat from humanity
But not from civilization yet.
Occasionally a dog bays,
A train slowly clatters by,
Their mournful horns sounding
Out their lonely warnings.
Through the gas lit streets
I now wander
To reach my destination tonight.
On the highest hill
Shielded from the cities' lights
I lie down,
The breeze cold in my hair,
The owls soft in my ears,
And await midnight &endash; hoping.
Hoping that the moon will
At that moment
Break though the leaden sky,
Charge me with her power
Her unmolested beauty.
But no, the forecast is wrong
And the instant passes.
Still in silence, I leave the hill
And march the streets some more.
No longer can I bear it;
I return to one of those
Empty brooding houses not a home
And prepare for another
Solitary still day.
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Copyright © 1998 John B Cooke IV
House o' Poetry
Jack'n'Jim World