dampened

I kept listening out

on that night

still warming itself on the hot day's ashes

and throughout that semi-tenebrous while

remaining favourably perched, a nightingale

illuminated by the satellitic pallidity of the moon

 

but instead of continuing to beautifully, uninterruptedly sing

had vocally stalled in wretched silence

an unusuality I could not make head or tail of.

 

In this instance, I am here in this famous Square

heart and soul opened

for the soothing trills that I had hoped

would smooth over the days troubled conclusion.

 

Something had broken out there

something that came between me and

the birds, meditative song.

 

Having been in his debt for so many years

I costlessly wait.

 

◄ Lord Lonely

knock knock-who's not there? ►

Comments

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LEON STOLGARD

Thu 4th Jul 2019 13:16

😄😃!! nice one/s guys-I have just clicked-forgot to fill the f! bird feeder! 😒 ok night singer. keep schtum, see if I care-aww no way could I mean that 😓 big ta to you both and Jon.

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Don Matthews

Thu 4th Jul 2019 00:29

Yep, Devon's right Leon. Bird must have something on you. Despite upsetting the bird, an interesting poem 😛

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Devon Brock

Wed 3rd Jul 2019 21:48

And I can see the nightingale giving you the side-eye - thinking, as birds do (i'm making this up) - you know what you did, no song for you tonight. Very enjoyable Leon.

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