A short poem, written after an impromptu night-time walk up to the fields and woods, lured out by bright moonlight on a still cold winter night.
I don’t go far.
But the big bright fullwinter moon pulls me out into the night.
Up the track.
Out of the village.
Across the frostcold fields to the woodedge.
Where I stop and stand and stare.
The world is changed.
Familiar become different.
Colour washed to grey in bright moonlight.
I hear ducks down on the lake
And owls twit and twoo their nightly romance.
A different bird yelps, another owl. Maybe.
The deer sleep, wooddeep, unseen, unheard.
I don’t notice the stillness at first.
It hides behind the distant sounds.
It hides in the windless silence.
But it is all around, holding this midnight world in its arms
Stars fight through the full moonlight and twinkle in the icy sky.
Cassiopeia's W, ever asking.
The great pointing bear hovering over me, showing the way north over the hills.
Nose cold. Body warm and downhugged.
Cold fingers on my whisky glass.
The raw spirit slipping and scalding down my throat,
A glow of warm colour in this mystical grey world.
Whisky gone, I turn for home.
Orion stands guard over the house,
Towering high above the village,
Sword at his thigh, ready.
I am filled with calm, and store some away.
Bottled in memories to be sipped later.
So when the sun is up and the owls and ducks are sleeping and the human world presses with its noise and its colour and its demand for time to pass,
I’ll have some quiet.
And I’ll smile at the world, safewrapped in my still moonlit cocoon.
© Jell Ellis February 2021
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