Poetry - One Last Evening (April 2020)

Hello there!

This is one of a number of poems written in 2020 that I'll be sharing over the coming months.

One Last Evening

 

The bench is damp but there is no feeling of wetness

Senses are fixed on the slow water, rapid birdsong,

Fragrances of the season, anticipating that moment

When bird flits, creature skulks through.

 

There is a faded carved plaque on the bench

Its wood rotting back into the undergrowth

One day to be washed back into the reedbed

Fungi tentative, lichens cautiously appearing.                                                                          

 

A curious Robin tries out the bench as a perch

Distracted, missing the piercing Kingfisher,

Nature pleasantly surprises but has all the cards

Some seen, others never shown.

 

The bench is getting cold as the light fades

One final sway of rushes, last golden shine,

Owls call as an unseen mammal vanishes,

Night beckons, twilight flickers into pitch.

 

There are still figures sitting on the bench

Invisible against faint stars and moths,

Physical forms already merged into the soil,

Ethereal forms, life melded into pure love.