(15/07/56 / Curragh Camp, Co. Kildare, Eire.)

' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' The Smell Of The Light(For Lyn)

Tilly tells me
she “adores” the smell

of
the light.

Watches intensely
as I fiddle with the wick

of our battered
kerosone lamp.

I smile
as her eyes light up.

Love how she loves
everything with a passion.

“Adore” is her
new found much used word.

So now
she “adores” the rich ritual

of lighting the lamp
and all its accordant magic.

Hand in hand
we scatter the darkness

that snarls
& reluctantly backs away

but then creeps back
behind us
its tongue
lapping at us

licking its lips
as if it would

swallow us up

but it is afraid of
the smelly light.

The wind tries to blow us out.

Scared she clutches
me all the tighter.

“I don’t like the way the light
makes the darkness darker.”

Her voice shivers.

I catch her up
in the crook of my arm.

She cuddles closer
as we walk on towards the barn

adrift in a sea
of darkness.

We the only
speck of light

(no stars tonight)

we the light
of the world.
The pregnant cow
lowing as if it knows
we are coming.

She nuzzles
into me

a frightened
little mouse

jumping
when an owl demands of us:

”Who...who...who! ”

“Your chest is
too tickly!

She complains sleepily.

“Ah...yes. My little chickadee! ”
I W.C. Fields her.

This never fails
to amuse her.

Our intertwined laughter
& the smell of the light

dispelling
the darkness

the pregnant cow
delighted to see us.

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Comments (2)

Your poems are crowded with images as if you have more than five senses, more than two eyes, more than one nose...more than one heart maybe. This pregnant cow and the smell of the light are so unforgettable :)) . Gorgeous, intense write as usual. Best wishes, one
Light DOES make the darkness darker, but you work just beams for me, full of light and sound and motion. Now, ACTION! !