you sheltered the flame
so she could pattern the night
now the sun shines through
and pierces your dark centre
while the flame sleeps

unable to sleep
I sit by the window
looking out into darkness
into my knowledge
of what lies beyond the glass
my eyes see nothing
but the soft black mounds of hills
given shape by the merest light
of moon and star
filtered through cloud
and there is stillness and quiet
the night-quiet when the wind has calmed
and tree ferns hang their fronds down
relaxing their leafy arms into the dark
while the birds sleep in the trees
there are creatures about
snails edging across the driveway
cats patrolling their borderlands
and a moth that stumbles across this page
on its way towards the torchlight
that lights my pen
©clairegriffin2017
the low winter sun
slides along the edge of the hill
brushing the tops of trees
pressing a little gold
to the edge of every leaf
gilding the darkening day
each tree becoming
an illuminated letter
spelling a prayer to the night
© Claire Griffin 2016