The Alps At Night

walking..

the ribs of falling night

cold flints of Autumn,a dark curtain

                 creating two rooms

nameless stumps of broken teeth,

melted to the white rock jaw

                 heavy as the light is bad,

the path a black swan`s neck

tubular and serrated,

                 a tunnel of guarding pines

and the tree line that grabs the swallowed sun,

a tense spring under the forest floor;

                 pushing me along,

the air as quiet as a stone`s face

the half silence of a broken bell

                 leaves moving with half life

So all light has fled into the sky ;

just the small spots of dropped stars

                a road down the distant valley. 

Reviews

[Judas Hammer]

This is a great poem. You have a way with words. YOu should have more reviews!!!

[Pete Langley]

I remember the end of a long car journey to Mernau, near Garmish ...and the heaviness of the valley dark while the last light hit the tops...of the unique atmosphere of closure. I much enjoyed this piece, Les. P.