Late December night <br />unseasonal, almost balmy <br />I step into the small Japanese Garden <br />in the center of three buildings: <br />this is the locus, the point which <br />pins brick to its substance <br />anchoring this place to the world... <br /> <br />I stand here & breathe night air, <br />allow darkness to embrace me <br />secret lover enfolding me <br />bringing me to a point of stillness <br />where even held breath could <br />shatter silence, cause the very stars <br />to blink out, one-by-one <br />leaving darkness so total <br />it must be my own... <br /> <br />In this numinous state <br />imagination's so vivid, so complete <br />I can see a stream running <br />beneath the small wooden bridge <br />defining this gentle, reflective space. <br /> <br />For a moment, I can forget reality’s hard truth: <br />Bridge covers a storm drain, <br />its charm accidental, by-product of function <br />- dispersing rain water, rushing river, <br />Into pipes - keeping property safe & dry, <br /> <br />Garden pristine in starlight; <br />caught in my lover's spell, <br />I allow practicality <br />to disperse, water down pipes. <br />Surrendering to silent darkness, <br />I hear only the mutable sussuration <br />of water rushing over smooth stones. <br /> <br />(Copyright 12/28/2005)<br /><br />Hugh Cobb<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/japanese-garden-on-a-warm-december-night/
