There are strange things done in the midnight sky
by witches who linger and fly,
The wind feels crisp in between my teeth,
the moonlight has numbed my lips,
I can taste the galaxies tonight

O’er yonder an orchard of stars are high,
star scapes are like fields of orchids shooting miles of skies,
Raining meteors reflecting in a mug of tea steaming,
Mythical constellations are glistening sinking the dreams

A journal to fill with emptied heart the darkness fills,
Once amongst the stars the night was ours,
How the beam slipped and danced on waves,
Nor Saturn’s master nor star orchard,
In the ice rock laid a spineless thing,
Its poetic sweetness mere feasting a bounty

── There are strange things done in the midnight sky,
by witches who linger and fly Sipping steaming tea,
writing in stars light

──  © Arnay Rumens / A Sol Poet  JN. 2014