Pin It

The Coming Night 

On the north coast of California
The wind is blowing strong
The coming night is cold

Starry liquid light illuminates the ground
Clouds blow about an expanse of sky
That is moving slow
But sure, above the place
We occupy

Today, this morning
I looked out from my man-made perch
A second story bedroom
Seeing out onto the
World of winter

There was a small Douglas fir
Felled by the strong night-time winds
Falling long across the
Green tree-filled gully
Behind the house

A quiet excuse for
A contemplation
Of the inexactitude
Of the moments of ending
Of the perpetuity of chaos

Of beauty made long
Made Into the white of bark
The green of leaves, being these

That are left into the void
Of unexplainable silence
And stasis

Pin It


Subscribe to this thread:

Add a comment

About The Author

Steve Brackenbury

more from the author

Latest in Poetry

Care2 Take Action?

Readers also liked…


Facebook | Twitter

© 2021 North Coast Journal

Website powered by Foundation