The night can keen beggarly want
And stoke the quill twixt fingers caught
The darkness like an inkwell taunts
The quiet with nothing but thought
The aptitude of thought can vex
Her best-laid plans of books and tea
Suggestions of surprise perplex
Slumbering mood with poetry
The mind is never still, it seems
One thought follows the next until
It sorts through matter-facts and dreams
To wanders past the window-sill
And what or where or who thought sees
Upon the transport of a sigh
Depends upon the brooding breeze
And how it strums its lullaby
The aftermath of middle day
The laughter of its afternoon
Falls up into the Milky Way
To spill from a star-dazzled spoon
The water-colored sky of dusk
Is hung upon a memory
The night can keen thought-streams of us
And vex the dark with poetry
Bygone can never bar the air
Thought tends to trespass at free will
Where darkness is a thoroughfare
For the trespasser with a quill
© Janet Martin
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!