so late my loveand the day still needs doingthough sun has long slipped the horizonand only the night jar still sings, but there are stars nowmy loveaching with light long held –come breathe with methis unravelling sky.
it was full dark before i made my way inside hands full of cactus dahlias and roses full blown before promised rain. these autumn evenings catch me – sending bats to flit the sky while i feel the last kiwi cuttings into the soil, water late season tomatoes new planted. it is better this way,…
let the day fade and seep its wild orange between the trees. let the darkening sky stretch with bat addled flight until even their flickering silhouettes shadow between the stars. and when night falls, as fall it must, i shall wear it soft as mothwing around my shoulders. there can be no fear, this path…
i wait with the night, face to the sky and rain that drifts like mist, for the call of the owl clear across the valley – and the answer that comes tree close and vivid with stars.
i went to look for the moon last night walked up the road torchless and quiet through darkness only my feet could see by, following spills of faint moonlight between trees. i found her there halfway up the hill veiled and gentle in the curved branches of a tree and stood a while moon spilled…
i wanted to sleep outside under that rain threatened sky, get soaked to the bone by the beauty of the night, wake to the morning like a leaf wakes open to the light.
because it is late. because there are stars dilute by the light of a luminous moon. because jasmine hangs heavy in the dew dark air. because time has been racing towards this perfect now.
finally got the sage dog inside, she had been barking relentless at the something out there; cautious, calling for back-up barking. searching the darkness i stretch my ears to see what she saw – porcupine, bushpig, caracal? torchlight in the forest finds nothing but leaf – drawing the circle closer. back to bed and…
i say the stars you left in my sky every name for your being forming new on my lips. there is no moon to witness this prayer of wheel and heart and hands, but moths come giddy on soft wings whispering your name to the night.