Song for mid-autumn morning

In the morning just past 6,
though it might as well be
the middle of the night.
Headlights cut the dark,
but it always grows back.
The fog gives an illusion of light
through the ambiguity it stirs,
makes snow in the street lamp
cones: makes me think of figures
in trench coats along the docks,
with a secret…
or the steam blown from
the snouts of war horses,
the dark is the great equalizer,
alone with my senses down
a dead end road:
through an arc of light
that makes a small space
on the ground seem real
for a minute…
through the other side to the dark,
its own shape,
not an absence of light,
but a presence
of dark.

Image by James Abbott McNeill -“Nocturne,” Wiki Commons

Categories: poetry

Tags: , , , , , , ,

16 replies

  1. Excellent, start to finish. The men in trench coats are a nice Bogart/film noir touch.
    I especially like the epigram-like “Headlights cut the dark, but it always grows back,”
    and the absence of light/presence of dark finish.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Nice! Glad you liked it, example of poem written on just a half cup of coffee and mostly in the dark. Happy you liked it! Recent poetry attempts are about as satisfying for me as doing push-ups which is to say, not much…and a bit humiliating! Best, Bill

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Of course I loved the “night-mares.” Giddy-up!


  3. ‘a presence of dark’ – πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚


  4. a great turn of perspective here, bill –


  5. The “ambiguity” stirred up by the fog–and yes, the secretive trench coats on the docks. Love the mood Bill. Nicely done.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Not for the first time, I find myself echoing Mr R Parker’s thoughts. Very nice.


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