Stille Nacht

Reading through my material, I find a lot of pieces written in the pre-dawn. It is my favourite time of day. I first noted this when, as a student, I worked as a barman in a night club. I would get home around 5am and say hello, dressed in my black and whites, to the milkmen who were just starting their shift.

 

four AM and not a breath

no sound

even the owls sleep

the willow shivers not

lax and daisical in the sensuous

 

… … night

 

silver shines my old friend

to summon seeking shadows

beneath the boughs

turning leaves like pages

into faery phantoms 

 

… … glistening

 

hush, you can hear dreams talking

whispering quiet under duvets

speaking djinns and goblins

on sandy beaches to Scheherazade

to ready for the coming dawn

 

… … waiting

 

at the end of the garden’s nave

and to the precept’s beckon

the pylons hum their plainsong chant

their liturgy to Gregory

deep, deep and deeper 

 

… … still

 

four AM and not a breath

no sound

even the owls are asleep