When we left our chairs
no longer imprisoned by their cushioned embrace,
we moved out onto the darker world outside,
and our part-spoken thoughts sounded in the stillness of the evening
- softly captured by the surrounding hedgerows,
- glancing up from the agricultural ground,
- and etching under an empty sky
brazenly swept by astral winds.
We examined the horizon of the sentinel trees,
so still and purely black.
their outline intensely sharp in the clear air.
We saw the last vestige of light
- our day, our presence, our immediacy
- slip away to its routine infinity.
And it was then quiet.
it was quiet.
We had met ourselves again.
We had expressed the passions of our minds
and explored the selective metaphors of our memories.
We had done the day,
cleared our imaginings and cherished the special corners of our souls.
We retraced our steps and moved to destined sleep.
We are ready now,
ready for our private miracles to start again.
We are ready now.
(Worfield, Shropshire)