Blinkbonny farm, night by Dan Shade

In this night garden, silence
Creeps through nettles,
Pauses screech
Owl lit through trees,
Scenting the hour with pine
Or navigating thistle
And willowherb
To scurry into the wells
Of darkness.

From where I stand
Stilled fireworks define the town;
The river, valleyed black
And subtle changing, hue
Reflecting the starlit skies,
Uncertain with distance

The stars apparent, perennial
In any sense applicable to man,
Pass unmoving above the racing hour
And tint with blossom
The brightening air.

Too soon, the dandelion sun
Brings glory and wishes:
The sleepers stir,
As dawn silhouettes
The hill gentle horizon,
Forgetful of these fragile hours.


Dan Shade