* S P A C E *
Standing under the solid stars, brightly twinkling in a black sky. Who makes their shadows?
On a blacked-out night when sun is down and moon has ebbed, if I stand in the light of only stars will my shadow be beneath my feet or scattered broken all around?
The sounds of Earth impinge and echo, as cars pass and person-walking dogs patter by, but those diffuse light beams, millennia old, are absorbed into the neons and LEDs of 21st Century days, and extinguish.
My soul always reaches up when my head is raised to see those stars. Broken shards of pain and doubt scatter with my broken shadows, each a cloaking contribution to night. That black cloak falls off and light-ness lifts my breath, steaming out into the airlessness of space.
Aligned to floor, ceiling and wall
A prospect, an incoming breath
Exposed to view
Open to comprehension and incomprehension alike
Ready to speak, to explain, to elucidate
Fearful of being seen
of incomprehensible criticism
Hoping for delight, or awe, or just a simple ‘that’s good’
A GLIMPSE OF GREEN
Downed leaves, the rotten, composting, mould-ridden end of last Summer are trampled in the door on my shoes. Brown, yellow and black they drift absent-mindedly on the wind, not staying at home but congregating in the corners and around the objects of everyday life, like teenagers out on the town for a Friday night.
My garden’s trees are nearly bare now, just a few lifeless stragglers swaying drunkenly on branches, then catching a passing zephyr they drop and mingle, onto my carefully ignored bulb patch. Its occupants mutter together words of encouragement, sharing visions of Spring life, beauty and replication. They are the shopkeepers, the place holders. They will not drift away. They cannot wait beneath this blanketing protection but drive upwards towards the Winter’ chill to exhibit, eye-catching, a glimpse of green.
Four layers – now heated up, as
cold morning swings into a hot afternoon
Our blasting winter sun is
not enjoyed by our Northern friends
Each island, province, city
watching for the signs of warmth
clearing of grey skies
the end of the rain, fog,
and those dull dull clouds
But here we take our Holiday
- Thanks Ma’am -
And wear our cloudless sky
like a blissful flower-trimmed hat
as we race around, enjoying
Indian Summer, La Nina
Dunedin in Winter