-- Ode to Night --

­­John Herlihy

I talk to the night,

But it makes no reply.

Thru clouds, moonlight,

The wind utters a sigh.

The night invites questions,

From whence the darkness comes.

Every shadow makes suggestions,

Listen to the fall of ripened plums.

Crushed velvet the night’s dress,

Its darkness travels far and deep.

Never does the night offer less,

The night never known as meek.

The night remembers still,

Even if all memory  fades.

Whispers quietly I will, I will,

Her image in my mind wades.

The night vision knows well,

My love long since gone.

Knows but will never tell,

Only echoes of a sad song.

Even if the night says nothing,

Its poignant silence I hear.

Oh, how nothing can be something,

As long as the night is near.

Its patchwork of darkness and gloom,

Lends freely of its mystery.

Until the light of a merciful moon,

Gives clarity thru the darkness to see.

A remembered kiss amid pine furs,

The stirring of love’s desire.

As any and all clear vision blurs,

in darkness, another kind of fire.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Sunday 22 November 2020