Is it nearly dark by half past eight?
Are there no clouds scudding along?
Is there no blackbird to stay up late
Under the streetlight to sing his song?
I was surprised it was dark so soon!
It was ten past nine when I saw the Moon.
And momentarily in its light,
In August, I saw an October night.
A few weeks before, the sun was shining,
Painting the clouds orange and pink.
Vapour trails and silver lining,
With longer shadows as dark as ink.
The leaves will soon be on the lawn,
And I’ll be at work to see the dawn.
Earliest sunset, then the Shortest Day
And at last, Christmas won’t be far away.
One in a Multitude
The Band of Bloggers held their front pages high
As tears ran red hot from the naked eye.
There was weeping behind the glasses too.
Close friends and a grief observed.
I know her dad quite well.
It was a miracle when I heard him laugh again, despite the bereavement.
I think I once made Angharad cross.
Teams of busy people were decorating the Kerith Centre for Christmas.
The house lights shone dimly onto the grey carpet,
The floor was covered in preparations and decorations, ribbons and cellotape.
Carols were heard, I can’t remember whether from the band or the PA.
Angharad and her mum were as busy as industry,
With glowing lamps, their table covered in cloth and fabric,
Scissors and threads.
I think they had two sewing machines that night.
Both racing against the clock.
Motors, driving bands and wheels.
Needles hammering the rhythm.
Threads and spinning cotton reels.
Running backwards and forwards to the front.
Custom made curtains, black as night, skirts for the stage.
Measuring and taking back as time ticked away.
The precision of this operation impressed me so much.
Angharad even had a laptop – A LAPTOP!
Was there that much planning in the process?
Was there a spreadsheet with columns and calculations?
Did it tell them what came next, how long, what shape?
Length and surface area, was there a chart with diagrams?
Our team had been wrapping boxes in the Vee for a Christmas tree
But we’d run out of things to do. My bored curiosity was like a cat.
I looked through the glass of the internal window into the auditorium.
I couldn’t see that clearly with a sneaky glance.
In her absence I had a closer look, then too close!
Just then I realised,
It was Facebook – and her friends – updates – personal – oh no!
She came back. I’d been seen!
But I thought… That’ll teach me!
She ignored that nosey man, locked the machine
And walked away.
I think she was offended.
I was sorry.
The bloggers seem to be moving on now,
Their sadness clothed in joy.
I am in temporary solitude and she is with the eternal multitude.
As tears ran red hot from the naked eye.
There was weeping behind the glasses too.
Close friends and a grief observed.
I know her dad quite well.
It was a miracle when I heard him laugh again, despite the bereavement.
I think I once made Angharad cross.
Teams of busy people were decorating the Kerith Centre for Christmas.
The house lights shone dimly onto the grey carpet,
The floor was covered in preparations and decorations, ribbons and cellotape.
Carols were heard, I can’t remember whether from the band or the PA.
Angharad and her mum were as busy as industry,
With glowing lamps, their table covered in cloth and fabric,
Scissors and threads.
I think they had two sewing machines that night.
Both racing against the clock.
Motors, driving bands and wheels.
Needles hammering the rhythm.
Threads and spinning cotton reels.
Running backwards and forwards to the front.
Custom made curtains, black as night, skirts for the stage.
Measuring and taking back as time ticked away.
The precision of this operation impressed me so much.
Angharad even had a laptop – A LAPTOP!
Was there that much planning in the process?
Was there a spreadsheet with columns and calculations?
Did it tell them what came next, how long, what shape?
Length and surface area, was there a chart with diagrams?
Our team had been wrapping boxes in the Vee for a Christmas tree
But we’d run out of things to do. My bored curiosity was like a cat.
I looked through the glass of the internal window into the auditorium.
I couldn’t see that clearly with a sneaky glance.
In her absence I had a closer look, then too close!
Just then I realised,
It was Facebook – and her friends – updates – personal – oh no!
She came back. I’d been seen!
But I thought… That’ll teach me!
She ignored that nosey man, locked the machine
And walked away.
I think she was offended.
I was sorry.
The bloggers seem to be moving on now,
Their sadness clothed in joy.
I am in temporary solitude and she is with the eternal multitude.
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