Silver Birches Poem by Mark Heathcote

A crack of light
Like a silver birch
In the night
Holds its spell over me
It's like looking into a well
Knowing - tranquillity exists
In, completeness,
No matter how dark this
Circle is,
I know there's a light in my soul.
Willing to confess there is love
In this here wilderness.
Beneath blue moon creeper's
I know I'm falling in love - again.
With scorpion, wasp stinging-kisses - a wine
You can only swallow deep
Like the heady-night of darkness.
Crackling with light
Like those silver birches
In the night
Holding their spells over me
My attention is a nest of vipers
As those leaves of her catkin kisses
Her sickle, moonlit limbs,
Take little bites of my solitary, melancholy.
Breaking off silver-breaths of dragons
That sealed their hearts wishes
With a wreath of purple violet, flowers.
It's like looking into a well
Knowing - tranquillity exists
In, completeness,
No matter how dark this
Circle is,
I know there's a light in my soul.
Willing to confess there is love
In this here wilderness.