HARP OF NIGHT

By Jennifer Pratt-Walter

Over the fields, shielded by stern firs

the Harp of Night awakens.

Autumn darkness fingers the cold strings

and quickens the winds that marvel and moan,

that delight and dance and pursue.

Even the tuning of it entrances a heart,

ladling me into a velvet well of Mystery.

At twilight I would savor her polished beauty   

and, placing my hands over her highest strings,

stroke down and down, playing the glissando of

my life as I move through the years

until the deepest strains tally my time.

My Conductor will cue from beyond the dark firs,

me to unbind my encore from the belly of night’s own harp

until rallentando, decrescendo, finé.

#darkpoetsclub