Catherine Simmonds
Midsummer's Eve
Love,
what has this night
brought on
that is so
broken free
from space?
The forms
the trees project
flicker the dusk
as if light from the stars
returned to us
is also this
long way home.
What is it
that the bats beat through,
when the air
vanished
to a gauze
folds, thick scented
about our arms?
The hedges
reach
to touch
over,
a vault
closing in
our unmade
words.
You leave
questions,
they ring
after you.
Night’s sum
adds up,
falters -
such pure sound.
Page(s) 8
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