Sunday, February 19, 2012

What! Two In a Week? And From Last Night?

I seldom offer poems spontaneously, more often working on a revision of something written two years before. So why not be different now and then? Vicki hasn't been sleeping well recently and we often find ourselves up in what most consider the middle of the night This is an impression from last night, with only typographic changes. (Well. almost only!)

  Idea of February

Viewed from the sofa at four-thirty AM
on this mid-winter day the picture window
is as blank and black as the turned-off TV.
The outside world has gone away, what once
was a frozen pond, a ridge-top deckled
ragged with trees, just isn't there. Nothing is
except a few lights which may be the suns
of some other worlds. But every time I raise
my cup to take a sip the lamp beside us,
the cup itself, the window pane, conspire
and send me a message, just a flash that could
be from "out there", hopelessly sent
from some other beings desperate to know
if they are alone. I suppose I should be suddenly
encouraged, but knowing the inflexibility 
of time and the speed of light, they'll never know
so what does it matter how many other worlds
there may be?  We still feel alone here on this
old settee. We doze for a while and when we wake
the sky is suffused with a pre-dawn cream
which the ice on the pond glows in echo. Only
the ridge line still holds night''s black Those lights
which might have been stars resolve to street lights
dimmed by the trees. A fingernail paring
of the dying moon, hanging over where we know
the water tower will be, seems neighborly. 
We doze and we wait for the promised sun.

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