STRAFFORD POETRY                                       

Purple hazy, the color of spring lilacs

In the not-quite-night summer evening.

The setting sun turned the sky over

To the twilight, which can only visit

For a little while. The half-light is

Saying its goodbyes before turning

The heavens over to night’s inky dark.

We stand in front of a cottage,

White clapboards where words live

And welcome us to their home

A library, maybe a chapel, where

We  band of poets have once again

Joyfully celebrated our own special

Liturgy, our coming  together, sharing

The words become verse and live

Among us, and we bring those words

To life, each in his own unique way,

According to whatever skill he has.

Tonight we have celebrated with wine,

But on most nights our bare words

Suffice as our elements: a communion…

And so tonight as our service ends,

You call my attention to the sky,

To its color, clarity, and the way

Its breezes weigh upon our senses.

I wouldn’t have noticed, I get so lost

In myself and my present necessities.

Thank you for showing me something new.

-19 June 2010

Chip Bergeron