midnight words

Christmas lights still move at the front window

a wreath of light over the door

most of this years display is back to sleep

not ready yet for completed black

again with freezing nights

the pepper tree tent is lit red

to keep it alive until mercury rises

in a year or two

it should be thick enough in trunk

to keep itself warm while

mars is reflecting brightly overhead

and Orion is frozen in space

but ever slowly creeping through history

normal days are never the same

rituals themselves become new

tomorrows mail will be already old

as time rolls space into its spiral coil

who on edge is round and still

I am a fool to think any one thing

is always the same

one moment new

and another gone

opportunities are unknowns dancing

possibilities mere shadows

when a heart is not freed

hands cannot reach

words fall short

midnight

breached

.

.

.

.

Benafia