Moon shadows spread before him across the path, <br />the evening primrose had closed its golden petals <br />to the cool reflections of night's silver light. <br />He gathered his coat as if to protect his heart <br />from unseen spirits riding upon the night's chill <br />and thrust his hands into damp pockets, <br />fingers curled into a fisted ball, ends tingling. <br /> <br />Car headlights flashed upon the hill <br />a rhythmic beacon of light signifying the downward winding road <br />like bright staring eyes, searching, searching for him, <br />as a gust of wind rattled creaking hinges of the peeling sign <br />which had hung limply above the inn. <br /> <br />The soft grass of the path turned to grey gavel, silver lit, <br />and scrunched with a compressed excitement, <br />exclaimed at each uncertain step in moon's shadows. <br />He felt the tiny pebbles as they pressed <br />against his worn soul, trying to hide in the warm ground. <br /> <br />A large and inky cloud sped across the silver orb <br />and tinged its softened form with hues of brown. <br />His knew his journey would soon end, <br />as the church clock, in silence, continued round. <br />His eyes followed upwards to where the spire <br />pierced the sky and pointed to the stars. <br /> <br />He went inside and made some tea, <br />and forgot, as the evening primrose rested, <br />with its golden petals closed to the moonlit sky.<br /><br />David Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/evening-primrose-in-moon-s-shadows/
