In its lucent light,
                        riding high in orbit,
                        the moon casts spears
                        arching toward the groves
                        of evergreens,
                        trading their veracity
                        for a moment of magic.

                        The night dissolves
                        the shaded parts into blackness.
                        My eyes linger
                        on the luminescence,
                        on the silent sterling
                        of those branches
                        lifted to catch the light.

                        And remind me
                        of the noble vigil
                        of the humble dusty miller

                        on a hot August night.

4 responses to “NOBLE VIGILS”

  1. This is quite lovely. There are just enough words, just enough images, but no more…It leaves so many questions unanswered, so many parts of the story untold. I think that’s the very unique thing about poetry, and this one, in particular: it lets us create our own little world.I think I like best ‘trading their veracity/for a moment of magic.’ The collision of veracity and magic is powerful, but the metaphor binds them (and us) and we’re caught. I’m not sure what ‘silent sterling’ actually means, but it’s so evocative I’m not sure it matters.Keep at this!

  2. The silent magic of nights like this amplifies the music of the stars – and I am alone with the universe.  Thank you for this picture of the night.

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