Friday, June 25, 2010

June Lights

The weekend was so full I didn't realize until just now that Sunday had come and gone without a post. Here's a poem-in-the-rough I wrote earlier and hoped to revise. Perhaps I still will, but not tonight.

The summer sun has slipped below the horizon
and fragrant dusk darkens the familiar path among the trees
as it bends away from the road
and so my bike wheels propel me forward on the empty road
steadily and nearly silently, I make my way home
before the smooth grey of pavement joins the shadows of the trees.

And then -- an unexpected glimmer --
and before I have time to think I'm seeing things --
another over above the grass

Now I barely see the road ahead
not because of growing darkness
but because of growing expectation of light,
flecks of gold in the dusky green-blue-grey of this place
rising above the ground and vanishing
as quickly as they came.


  1. Mmmm. Bethany, this is lovely. It has such a lull of peacefulness over it with an aching 'willo-the-whisp' mystery and familiarity with the lights. I especially love the line "before the smooth grey of pavement joins the shadows of the trees."

    "the shadows of the trees" is an image that always captures my attention, and to blur it with the road you're traveling is especially beautiful.

  2. thanks for the comment, "TI" :)
    I miss you and we should talk sometime