THE SMELL OF WINTER

I wrote this poem over a couple of weeks taking aspects of dreams and memories of waking in the night. For me it is a long poem. 

THE NIGHT IN FIVE SEGMENTS

hypnagogic patterns

or people endlessly morphing

projected on the cave wall of my skull

always I wonder if I’ve seen them before

weigh their significance

fall into the black

...

but for not as long

as you might expect

just one hour or two

hydrangeas flood the house with the smell of winter

the night is still

...

so I don’t look at my hands

though there is something I must do

this buzzing internal puzzle

I walk through that door and

am under the ocean

...

awake at three or four

this house a dreamscape

the floorboards in the bathroom

wooden warm smooth

the tree dances in the street light

...

this final waking

in the winter’s miserly light

the rich day waits

at the kitchen table

It is impressionistic, dream-like and hopefully conveys that otherworldliness that can come on when you wake some nights. 

Here's the great Anne Briggs, such a voice!

Until next time.