Thursday, 21 July 2016

Hot Evening, After The Beach





At midnight still butter pools in its dish.
Dog rouses for a drink, pads back towards her bed, lies on the floor, sighs defeat.
Ice chinks in nettle beer. The clouds have swallowed a full moon, and nothing cools in digestion.
We lie like butter in our salt puddles, dream of emerging, evolved.
For now, like Dog, we surrender.
Pad, pad, slowly to our beds.
Sand is welded to our soles. Close eyes, recall that push, that cooling incoming tide.
Dog twitches in her sleep. Mr hums a snore.
There’s no sleep here for me.
Downstairs, where the windows are left open, a freed moon shines.




4 comments:

  1. Your words paint a vivid picture. I've experienced a lot of hot nights just like that. With the high temperatures we've had this summer, all I can say is, "Thank God for air conditioning!"

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  2. Lisa, on 1st reading I thought this poem beautiful. On 5th reading, I think it is stunningly beautiful. There is a calm, quiet joy in it that does not disperse. Brava. Brava.

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    Replies
    1. Undispersible joy is my favourite kind! Thank you Geo. :-)

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