Night Walk

bitter-brittle
woodsmoke
mixed with
night-coloured grass
green-Spring disguised
by darkness

sweet-smell of soil
allowed to renew itself
mysterious under
dying suns

no streetlamps
or countless
flourescent houses
to disappear
our natural glorious
navigators:
Moon…Venus…Mars
our torches
outside of fire
that help us
notice
only what we need….

©April 2011 by Phyllis J. Hanniver

Advertisements

About pjh95811

I am a writer and poet living in California. I love cats, dogs, nature, poetry, spirituality and the Pacific Ocean.
This entry was posted in Nature, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s