Page 16 - Contrast1980v23n2

Aurora

The wind rubs like a cat
on the corners of the house
The stars are frozen to the sky
and night is long on the countryside.
The icicle days sharpen
and then fall away
We stay buried in the mountains.
I dream of sailing to Antarctica, to watch
the edges of the world reflect the sunset-

Snow weary
on a winter's night
When everything was reduced to
black and white
like a photograph
in varying shades of light-

On the edges of the frame
You flood the picture with light
we breathe
and the world becomes yellow walls
the morning air is almost balmy
I seem to have sailed the Southern Seas
in time to lie here in the warmth
and watch the red-gold awakening
chase the sleep
from a sailor's eyes.

anonymous

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