The sun blazed high.
I looked to his power
for direction
and was blinded,
scorched until he danced,
a colourful myriad of inspirations,
even further from my reach,
into the sea.
I sat in the cool, soothing air,
listening to owls
telling their stories.
Night jasmine curled around gates
like children’s crowns woven
with white, fragile stars.
A hare leapt across a starlit field,
its tail bobbing like a tiny moon.
The gentle, round face of night’s queen,
simple, white and immense,
rose in the East.
Her light touched me
and did not burn.
I found my direction
suddenly,
under a bliss of stars,
dance moonwards.
Oh yes! And “Night jasmine curled around gates like children’s crowns woven with white, fragile stars” seems so immediately appropriate to you… X
It speaks to where I am these days, true.