I think how much I love this space
its flavour of study and silence,
the fire ticking, the lamplight’s circle
thrown on the ceiling like a Communion wafer
or the moon’s disc, whose rays
have so recently rested on the faces of people I
love
while the storm has whumped and flustered
at the walls and panes, and the flames
in the hearth have kept time with the dog’s
contented groanings
and
I think perhaps
that I like best of all this moment
at the end of the day, quiet in here a little longer
with everyone gone, but only just
so something of each still lingers –
and their poems, careful as prayers
still scenting the late autumn afternoon’s air.
© Roselle Angwin, 2nd November 2013
There's something so intoxicating about the end of the day stillness experienced indoors. Something does linger on...
ReplyDeleteHere's a recent poem about stillness outdoors, experienced, imaginatively from above!
Thermal
After the push-pull pummelling,
leaving the grass sponged and matted,
the air damp and brackish
paused in the pirouette of air-streams,
comes the dance of the curvatures:
hang gliders, teasing freedom.
They turn their tips to each other,
extending as if in a masque,
brushing with an open hand
swathes of rust and russet,
plastering the creases of hills
like a rain belt on a weather map.
Julius Smit
Julius! How lovely to hear from you; and what a beautiful poem. Thank you. Something's shifted in your work, perhaps? It feels more integrated, somehow, tighter at the same time as more fluid, if that makes any sense; but with your usual artist's eye for lush visual detail. And: do you remember this poem from South Hooe, using each others' donated words?? 'Sky a decoction of bleed colours shingling the water; orange cartwheels of light / from the far bank; actuality of avocet.' I think the last 3 were yours? Rx
ReplyDeletePS Julius I love this couplet: 'plastering the creases of hills /
ReplyDeletelike a rain belt on a weather map.'