Equinox

At its wilting zenith, Midsummer’s Day
exiting Cancer, the doorway to Capricorn

halts

diffusing latitude, warping longitude
folds time, space and place
to a pillowed mass.

Pulsing air, nearer drug than bludgeon
soothes us with weighted seduction
as we lie on a carpet of trampled grasses
while a palisade of stalks draws the eye
to a vaulted view, linear
but in no sense limited.

A lark transmits. We receive, constrained
by language, but alert to the possibilities.

For the longest instant
we inhabit the province
between the once was
and the soon to be.

The pond, hugged by bullrush and marigold
so close but a galaxy away, for now
is a cooling temptation to be resisted.

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7 thoughts on “Equinox

  1. I can’t even begin to tell you how wonderful I thought this was! The placement of “halt” to create a pause; describing space, place and time as a pillowed mass, and that magical way you have blurred distance and minute detail so that galaxies and the grass stalks beside you – and everything in between – can just about switch places. Magic! How perfect for the Solstice.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. You have captured the essence of Midsummer’s Day perfectly, Julian. The idea of ‘time stands still’ comes through beautifully, as does the whole feel of the time of year. I particularly like the image of a palisade of grasses alongside that fortunate person lying on that cushioning carpet of trampled grasses. Lovely poem.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Titania:

    He seems feverish
    It must be spring
    But you have no reason
    To cause such discord
    Over petty jealousies

    We fair creatures
    Create the world
    You exploit it
    And now we’re all choking
    On diesel fumes

    Monsoon rain floods
    Poison ground water
    While in other parts
    The land is so dry
    It breaks the plough

    What happened to the works and days?
    What happened to festive nights?
    We used to sing in the streets
    Now we barricade our doors
    Against our neighbors

    Granny moon
    Once lit our dreams
    Grows pale and turns her face
    Then throws up her hands
    And a tide of fear and pestilence

    In this climate
    The seasons loose their mind
    Roses freeze in full bloom
    Crocus buds speak out of turn
    Mocking order

    As the stunned world watches
    Waters rise
    Against all and none
    Because we can’t get along
    The parents and the origin of this disease

    Liked by 1 person

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