A Moment

it is pushing midnight,
and I am sitting at the picnic table
in the yard behind our home

wisps of white cloud scud above.
the moon higher now – earlier
it hovered over the delta,
light rippling from it:
a yellow road rippling down
from the edge of the Atlantic,
following the Merrimac,
across the chop,
wavery highway, a rougte towards the harbor.

the stars are echoes of past light.
cold air around me,
hair blowing.
thoughts blown by other winds,
pushed by other hands.

I am alone, behind this house.
I am quiet under this canopy I cannot fathom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

5 thoughts on “A Moment

      1. It’s as surrealist can be expected. I’ve been doing a lot of writing, just not publishing that much here. I may need to rectify that balance. How are you surviving the end times?

      2. Please publish it. I like to keep up with reading them. I’m okay. Dying to travel but all plans now understandably cancelled. I’m feeling so appreciative of experience since lack of much. .

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