A Poem a Day (442): Sentries

Sentries
 
An invitation of colours wrapt,
night’s ache drips full scope,
lights suspended, pure small dots
of living sensation blinking out
to the lost, all the wanderers
on their own searching, unfound.
The trees stand sentry on the lake,
still and steady, not breaking lines.
They are the watchers of the dark,
this pristine place, displaced art.
The pool collects light, its rays
trickle from the sky like silk,
splashing in a steady tune to water,
sinking and spreading night’s word.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, June 19, 2021