Mervyn Linford - Poet   


Before Moods Midnight

The sun - looks at itself in the river -
     blinks an eye
and is covered in stardust.

An owl tries to be a train
     but fails - falteringly.

Walking beneath the trees
     I see that the moon
is meaningful with its magic -

is a spinner of silver threads.
Bats - follow this phenomena - soundlessly

and a thousand moths
          stagger - like drunkards -
                              into light’s oblivion.