January Night, Moderate Chill

January night. Moderate chill.
Fingering a loop of wooden beads,

I sit on the third-floor balcony

In a darkness here and there

Dotted and streaked with light.

I'm dressed in winter pajamas.

I'm hoping no one can see me

As I look up at the Hunter's belt,

Down at the parking lot.

The light traffic of Route 60

Hums within sight and hearing

Just past the hundred-yard path

With two large trees on either side

In front of my apartment building.

It's thirty, thirty-five degrees.

I wrap this cold around me
And my sluggish senses waken.

I drink darkness like water

And listen for whispers of mercy

In the endless star-sparked sky.

Poetry by Thomas D The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 567 times
Written on 2019-10-05 at 08:29

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
To me, he first part of this is the set-up. The second is the poem.

one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
a little distracted by the form, but behind that is a simple elegance, a quiet beatitude.