Nigel McLoughlin

At The Waters' Clearing

Some Go Dancing

‘Some who go dancing through dark bogs are lost’ - Louis Mac Neice

There could be emeralds
topaz, amethysts in the sky
where the setting sun
makes a tiger’s eye
of the horizon.

The light sublimes
under night’s arced wing
like a jewelled shock
of hair that springs
from mountains.

Nights like these she comes
a fickle witch, her red hair down
drawing me to the hills
that lie outside the town
and takes me dancing.

I have danced with her
where the moon sings
impaled in branches, or drowns
in streams that dragon wing
the hillsides.

There are nights she leaves
me to find my own way home
and I have danced down mountains
through dark bogs, have never known
that I was lost.

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