Night

Three twitter poems on a theme.

 

Moonless night,

orange sky,

packed with cloud

and the sour taste

of city waste,

but far away,

stars light up a sky

black as dreamless sleep,

and in between

peace drops,

pearls from worlds

that have yet to wake.

 

 

Against the black,

a sliver slice,

a curved pool of light,

a rent in the fabric of the sky.

We call it moon

for want of a better word.

 

Cold glitter falls

onto a silent land

of stone and grey trees,

where grey cats prowl,

looking for love,

pad padding

on frosted tiles,

singing their wild songs

to the moon.

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