Tuesday, April 02, 2013

A tiny scent of smoke

A tiny scent of smoke
pockets of distant fire work

and a chopper cuts the dark
into the rhythm of its blades

That melancholy celebration
is a feast of burning leaves

and its restless audience
wishes for light and dance

Seagulls panic
Lear beckons

The zoo disgorges its guests
Disturbing air on black sky

signals shocking freedom
Those who were attending carefully this night

will recall it as exposed as
a scary bend on the old road down

Colours make more sense now
and sleep obscures print

but the fading season fades
despite the call never to end

     Grant Duncan, 8.3.13


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