A little before nine o’ clock, the wind changed its course
as though wanting to declare its arrival,
to say that I am here to elevate your thoughts
now the sky is witness
to the change in complexion, to the burning sensation,
to conviction,
that has made its way into my breast
in my mottled musings the moon is imperial
and gold
as the night gives me his heart to hold
should sorrow sweep him along into troubled waters
come April,
in the serenade of ebony my eyes are chorus
sometimes
the soul requires music, the cooler the night the comforting the song.

 

Photo credits: Marta Bevacqua, Silence

Posted for Poems in April @ Real Toads