I look to the emptiness
still; the pool rippling
like jewels in streetlight.
Tonight there is no moon.
But me, and you inside me
beating still.
The water is beautiful,
and the air is still.
My boots soon
shall start
the long steps
to you. I will
one night
turn away
those melancholy waves
that turn this night
so gentle, stir
the black and bottled greens
or die wandering
the darkling trees.
27 October 2015
‘stir
the black and bottled greens
or die wandering
the darkling trees.’
Beautiful!
Another eerie post from the future (check your date, caro amico)..joking aside, the title, first line sets its mood so well, it’s haunting and the sound of it, especially the final stanza that ends amidst those ‘darkling trees’ is particularly ‘succulent’ in its colour and sound. ‘I look to the emptiness..’, is there ever too much of such looking?