Early Summer Evening Poem by Frank Letras

The crescent moon floats in the western sky
Like some giant’s discarded finger nail
It’s colour, a pestilent orange,
The blazing sun, having long since departed
Leaving little blotches of ethereal incandescence
Trailing across the visible horizon,
Night descends in increments, as if the coming
Of the new day holds no mysteries it can’t learn
And spread it’s dark clutches to envelop
The whole planet in dark for perpetuity.
The cool breeze whispers obscenities as it passes
Angry that it has to travel to some godforsaken destination
Whilst the ancient oaks mock the very essence of the wind
They have, after all withstood it for longer
Than most other living thing.
They urge the capricious breeze on to form gusts
Which will blow the rain clouds far inland
Where they can best serve the needs of the thirsty land.
A sly old fox ventures out from its hidey hole and runs
Briefly leaving its shadow trailing across the cone of light
Left by one of the first street lamps to illuminate
These ancient cobbled streets. The cobbles themselves
Seem relieved with the coming of the night,
Their ancient granite hot from the exertions of supporting
The city’s heavy traffic, appears to glow, being polished
To a bright sheen by the constant pounding of a million pairs of feet.
Here and there, the human sounds that greet
This pulsating early summer evening are of young people
Out and about, eager for mischief or simply trying to test
Their attempts at promiscuity, unsuccessful in most cases
But through the a eons it hasn’t stopped a billion young hopefuls
From promising their undying love for a peek at little
Bit more female flesh, ‘get it while it’s fresh’ the old boys
Cackle, while swaying on the park benches, the sharp stench of drying urine, cheap alcohol and stale tobacco wafting around them
Like some long lost friend.
A deep clanging sound indicates the lone bell
Of the city’s largest church calling the faithful
To evening prayers, and there they go, full of airs
And graces, written on all their faces,
Wearing their Sunday best, ready to pass another god given test.