Late Spring Evening

Moonlight catches a cobweb
in the orbs of your eyes.

Wistful memories lurk
on intersections.

Someone else’s thoughts
waft between the clouds.

Cats sigh as delicious dark
oozes through screen doors.

The sound of counterfeit rain,
the hose makes streetlight rainbows.

Grass blades tickle toe whorls
as they spring up after each step.

The concrete footpath is cool
and smooth beneath the soles.

A tree rustles, a paw, a nose,
a possum munches guava flowers.

A young woman gets in her car
complaining on her mobile phone.

A moment later, she squeals the tires,
on the wires above, a possum crosses.

The moon has risen high
above the roofs, glinting on the tiles.

OpenLinkNight — Week 72

Advertisements

36 thoughts on “Late Spring Evening

  1. It felt strange plunging into a poem about Spring, given we’ve just entered Winter! But there’s no mistaking the atmosphere created by a super poet, whose sensitivity to the minutiae and ability to create atmosphere. Wonderful poetry. Envious of your Spring.

    • We are getting the smell of summer now – I hope it’s not going to be one of those relentless dry hot summers when the sun charges around like a bogan beating his chest 🙂

  2. Love it! You are SO ‘in’ this poem Marsha … I can see you gazing around, seeing things, hearing sounds, smelling scents … taking it all in & writing it all out with joy-coloured ink. And the interuption of the angry woman towards the end somehow works but I can’t fathom why. Perhaps it provides a moment of human emotion: a necessary bridge between the lazy reverie of that late Spring evening & the moon’s glinting farewell?

  3. I don’t know where in the world you are but, it sounds a whole lot warmer tha our minus 7oC right now with snow expected tomorrow.
    This was lovely.. I love the rain and all of the imagery in this.

  4. This is lovely,marousia– expressive as a sonata–it really reminds me of a slideshow set to music, full of snapshot images that flow smoothly into the impression of a larger whole.

  5. You know, this poem is like your delicious water colors…so filled with life, vivid, so capturing the moment…and the young woman w. the mobile phone, to me, underscores life all around her in this late season of Spring. This is truly, a brilliant capture. :))

  6. SCENES OF THE OLD WORLD

    There’s no spider for fresh air
    Burning through candlelights
    Only Ariadne’s sword and thread
    For any gentle breeze that passes by

    A single breath follows the stream
    In desert storms and rainbow harmonies
    Until a clear sound wipes the settings out
    For an original dawn to shine

    So high the moon at noon
    So down the reflect at midnight
    Water is just an elusive witness
    Get me a drink when thunder plays

Please leave a comment

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