Wyldwood

Wyldwood

Pagan Art, Articles and Wanderings

Poem: Night

Night,
When the air is cool and still,
Distant traffic rumbles softly,
Late travelers,
Bleary eyed and dreaming of home.
Brothers in arms,
Stumble back from the pub,
Singing old songs of comfort and unity.
Pale stars poke through the orange glow,
Thin points of light,
Marking long periods of time.
And I,
Alone and musing,
Silent but for my mind,
Trying to put meaning to all of these things,
And finding none.
 
Herne Wyldwood © March, 2022

Photo by anastasiia-krutota-cohyle on Unsplash