The stars are busy harvesting

“Solitude seeks a companion in a cigarette,

Perhaps the tilt of a glass where the spirit rises

To greet its missing god.” – That is why I love you Bart!

Bart Wolffe

THE STARS ARE BUSY HARVESTING

The stars are busy harvesting the earth below,

Their sentinels are silences, trees that reach towards their tips

But cannot touch the distances they long for.

Instead, each bud unfurls a prayer; it is a new leaf

As yet unwritten.

This is early Spring, the notes just green and small.

Fruits are still to waken from a garden’s dreams.

Later will come summer’s coloured coat and after that

The autumn letters written in gold.

Day’s last birds have already sucked in the dying light

To release twilight’s agony. A requiem in chorus.

The owls begin again.

They are floating ships upon this unseen sea.

Here is the witness. A bench, fixed upon this axis

Bears the slow turning of thought.

Solitude seeks a companion in a cigarette,

Perhaps the tilt of a glass where the spirit rises

To greet its missing god.

Overhead, an aircraft…

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