Keith McFarlane
From the Window
A mist fell from the autumn sky
And lent the bare limbs modesty;
Where all before was sharp and cold
The leaves of burgundy and of gold
Were cloaked in soft perplexity:
So seemed the scene change to my eyes.
Each lamp that once was harsh and bright
And fired with fierce modernity
Became with haloes ringed, suffused
With softness: gas mantled flames burned thus
By night a hundred years ago
When stones first rose above this site.
The moon came up, drew back the pall
And touched the trees, each twig and branch,
With silver etched on velvet sky:
The beauty of the living root, why
Even in the city’s neon heart
A moment can become eternal.
Page(s) 53
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