Quarter to midnight

We dream through sunlit mornings of this life​

Wondering just who might appear

And when. ​

What surprises might form in the colours of earth.

I searched in long hot lazy afternoons of my summer

I bear frown lines from squinting against the sunsets ​

Still believing

‘Cause that’s what the fairy tales say

I wearied at sundown in my life ​

Resting quietly in the garden of my own making

Contented with what I had sown

Though small the harvest

I could not have expected anything at the edge of my night ​

When I am but a shell of the self I was

Yet

Warm against the barren trees

It

Whispers

Along my leafless limbs

At quarter til my midnight

i wait for ​

Aurora Borealis

3 comments

  1. When I was young we lived in the country away from lights & had no yard light. I recall three times we saw the Aurora. Once the sky was red, the other two times ribbons of yellow and green danced in the northern sky. I hated to have to look away and leave the show. There are places in Nebraska where people come to see the show in the dark dark night. Your poem put me in another time and place.

  2. ahh the stars at night… yep.,.. shooters. here…do not stop believing and dreaming …i have come to not take life personally… stay well poetic justic cuz

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