bonny night. I step outside and gaze,
back in autumn dark, up into space,
stars between the clouds burn with quiet praise,
think for whatever reason of your face.
thoughts below those glittering Pleiades.
Goodbyes. The largeness of the night
easy nostalgia for futilities,
from the searching glare of window light.
what's this, suddenly, about my feet,
my ankles? It's the old, fat black tom
affectionate, startling from
ragged-eared, with his small thunder.
it mere food, or love he wants, I wonder?
presence somehow makes the night complete.
Gerry Cambridge. From The Shell House,
Cultural Press; reprinted by
of the author.