untethered
through the dark,
we tread
across that familiar park
on the path coarse
she rose
graceful and free
she moves
like a gentle breeze
on a mid-summer night
our elbows locked
she turns and dances
giving life to a shadow
in the streetlight, static
and yellow
a commune of silhouettes
beyond the lake
like wonted mores
try to reach us ashore,
spellbound by the water
the black reflection ripples
and moves into stillness
red tinted clouds
drift miles above us
granting glimpses
of an indigo night sky
dotted with distant stars
and an orange Mars
almost time now
she spots the International Space Station,
a white lucent shine,
rise up from the vagrant reds in the west
and draw a lucid arc
across the indigo canvas
a deft motion of a compass tip
subtle, taut
and at ease
the white glow dims
and then fades
as the night turns on itself
we rest
on that wooden bench
overlooking the lake
just being
watching
the midnight drama
unfold,
like a fountain spring forth,
a breath we hear
take shape
as the ducks play and laugh,
as repeated greets by a shy hedgehog
as the bats in acrobatic flight
and the long white fluffy thing
which to this day
remains mysterious
to 26 and 21
the ubiquitous black intense
is void no more
awake we are
and our souls, a choir
a breath cosmic,
flowing
untethered
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 4:55 AM UTC
untethered
through the dark,
we tread
across that familiar park
on the path coarse
she rose
graceful and free
she moves
like a gentle breeze
on a mid-summer night
our elbows locked
she turns and dances
giving life to a shadow
in the streetlight, static
and yellow
a commune of silhouettes
beyond the lake
like wonted mores
try to reach us ashore,
spellbound by the water
the black reflection ripples
and moves into stillness
red tinted clouds
drift miles above us
granting glimpses
of an indigo night sky
dotted with distant stars
and an orange Mars
almost time now
she spots the International Space Station,
a white lucent shine,
rise up from the vagrant reds in the west
and draw a lucid arc
across the indigo canvas
a deft motion of a compass tip
subtle, taut
and at ease
the white glow dims
and then fades
as the night turns on itself
we rest
on that wooden bench
overlooking the lake
just being
watching
the midnight drama
unfold,
like a fountain spring forth,
a breath we hear
take shape
as the ducks play and laugh,
as repeated greets by a shy hedgehog
as the bats in acrobatic flight
and the long white fluffy thing
which to this day
remains mysterious
to 26 and 21
the ubiquitous black intense
is void no more
awake we are
and our souls, a choir
a breath cosmic,
flowing
untethered
