After Midnight

The garden stillness beckons me at night:

A grassy shoreline, rain-soaked moss on stone;

Wood pigeons call, a bat’s wing teases light,

And traffic on the road recedes like song.

I breathe in stars, breathe out a rhythmic woe:

The care, defeat and failure of a day;

Breathe in again the mallow and the rose,

Breathe out the leaden emptiness of clay.

The lilies hold their scent, like secrets, firm

Until their hearts unfold beneath the sun;

And evening primrose bursts its yellow stem

Announcing fragile hope that Summer’s come.

I breathe in sky, breathe out a sad despair,

Breathe in the solitude – a hermit’s prayer.