Ken's Poetry

Sight And Sound

The security light dies
and my eyes open to the night
instinctively prepared for dark,
but the sky surprises with the echo
of townlight on invisible clouds;
no stars tonight, no moon paint
but gold lamplight through trees.

Leaves effervesce in a splash of breeze,
a distant car snarls quietly,
rubber tyres whistle on tar,
then as if a baton had been raised
a rare silent pause
and through a broken cloud,
black noise of space.