I kept night-watch, as once at church,
but more than candlepower displayed.
Fireworks flowered in sprays of blooms,
snapdragons cracked like jumping jacks
as bubbles floated, sparklers fizzed,
well past the hour of midnight chime.
I surfed the sofas without shame,
waves of being there, and not,
dozed the morning before the next,
when deep sleep followed pillow-talk.
Pillared elbow, I woke up new,
partnered with, I knew not who,
fresh starters, roll-up, then this mug,
a brew, weak tea from some old bags,
brunch resolved by last night’s stew.
Janus, with his double face,
what should I look forward to,
save more of the grace I knew
before the last day of the year?
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including Poetry Potion.
His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com/