A Night Walk
A street breeze and my dogs soft lope
befriend me on this nightly walk.
An ochre moon calls open-mouthed
while big Orion hunts across the sky
driving the mutely roaring lion
and all the constellated zoo.
A vixen on the avenue
takes refuge from the starry hue and cry.
Covertly habiting the hills on which these
dark streets lie,
she knows the timeless contours,
the unendingness of things:
the flow in drain and culvert of the old vale stream,
the beaten paths of men and mice,
the waste where neither seed nor brick persist.
Orions belt, the foxs brush,
curve of the clay beneath the struggling bush:
these ancient forms outrun my transient step.
The distant traffic whispers, an embodiment
of human energies, Promethean, yet bound.
If you've any comments on this poem, Adrian Hall would be
pleased to hear from you.