'Gatsby believed in the green light..'
(F.Scott Fitzgerald)

We woke to a dark day
twisting around the equinox,
light entwined like ivy,
the low sun skimming
the earth like a flat stone.
Suddenly the sun sank,
beaching itself, a crimson whale
on the shore of the earth's edge,
clouds wound round it like a scarf.

Perhaps this short, dark day
is meant for meditation,
mulling over time,
how it trips and traps us,
how it's continuous trek
wrings and wraps us,
our slivers of carbon
diffusing and infusing
with the long ring of sleep.

Embers from our fire redden
in the afternoon dusk, heat
pulsing from your hidden places
full of electricity.
Over the water, a green jetty light
switches on revealing it's location,
somewhere far, somewhere almost lost.
Categorized as Poems

By Arthur Richardson

Very part time poem maker. Retired from paid work.

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s