Sleeping out

Sleeping out
on a night of soft rain,
I walked into the twilight moor,
into the maze of gorse and bracken, birch and fir.

Foals were silhouettes of shade
twitching in the
silent shadows of a mare.
I walked with reverent stillness there.

The night fell, the wind rose,
Tumbling the sky breath over the sleeping trees,
Birch leaves trembled, black as the ace of spades,
I made my bed beneath their shade..

Slowly, fear of the unknown night subsides,
a territoriality evolves,
my tree, my bush, this nest where I belong.
In the dark I listen to the haunting nightjar song.

Sleep was fitful but the air sank deep
The night-sharp scents drill down
Tingling the stagnant layers of the lungs
Between the hissing showers a half moon hung.

An interplay of light and shade,
Showers and moonlight, filled the fitful hours.
Stiff limbs, but a loosened mind uncoiled in curdled dreams and thought.
And peace was found where it was sought.


(c) A McN