An August and near-full moon rises above Devon
ignited entirely by the sun. I pause to watch it burn in
its safe reflection before returning to the television and
singe in the heat of London's burning streets where the
night's neon sky is blackened by smoke like a balaclava
drawn over someone's usual bright face. Cars are
beacons as are people's homes, their flames
fanned by marauding winds and other people's unusual
voices - words that sound familiar but out of place -
and the light attracts a swarm of something.
Going back outside to spot my Devon moon
it has disappeared, no doubt behind summer's clouds,
and rain will come eventually to wash things clean
or, like smouldering ash, turn bright light to grey.
Another highly evocative and dark edged piece-powerful stuff. It reminds me of the terrible news pictures of a 140 year old family business burning furiously, the flames being fanned across the street by the wind. I hope you see your Devon. Moon again soon - it sounds comforting in such times of unrest.
ReplyDeleteIt's there tonight, but giving off an ever more complex light.
ReplyDeleteAh, the ever changing moon...
ReplyDelete