The Chariot
Stand over
wide oceans to read signs
written in
water, slight trickles of sense.
Starlight explodes
in a silverous stream,
reflections
of the moon riding backwards
to eat the
horizon. We throw stones,
watch them
trip across this pithy dark,
lost in the
squall. Skies empty of birds,
songs postponed
until the pink of dawn.
We search
out the Chariot arching the sky;
irredescent
sparks let it loose upon us,
charging full
throttle, looping each star.
It promises
something new, unrealised yet,
an echo of
the thing you thought you had lost.
Horses drag
it full circle, hand you the reins.
Copyright Vickie
Johnstone, December 9, 2020
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks for commenting :)