Five centaur kitted out in black and white crowns came dancing in the moonlight, all stirred up and fizzing with glee at the very thought of it.
The onlooking angels were not impressed — tired clapping, dimmed halos
They stayed a while longer, hopeful
watched as garlands of seaweed came to frame the scene then shrugged off
Aching trees, their branches serving no other purpose but to bear witness (passage, time) stood there silent of course until one of them in the smallest hour, once everyone had left, screamed
(It woke us up)
A blue, dark blue indigo sound coloured the air so thickly that its residue remained the next day to stain the wings of a passing moth.
That’s where we were then, that time (you weren’t there) and where we’ll go now (you and I)
Over the field by the river at midnight with the air still warm and the stars out
We will dine on oysters and crack jokes.
