WHAT WOULD THE MID NIGHT DO, poetry by pd lyons


What would the midnight do with fingers?

Braid your hair while you were sleeping,

Pick green apples from the trees,

Count the legs on centipedes?

Prick them on a whitethorn hedge

Seeking out the vixens den?

Weave   the  constellations new again?

Touch your dreams with deeper meaning?

Select an ancient instrument of bone,

Dedicate that music to the moon?

with wings







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