Night comes and I stare
at the spruce in my front yard.
It teeters in the breeze
like a shy dancer
holding the hem of her dress,
on the verge of leaping,
any second now,
towards dark applause.
I love the spruce image; it’s proven to be quite memorable, as I see your shy dancer in my neighborhood, too. I imagine the dark applause as the windy sounds in the night, but there is a sinister undertone. I wonder about your title — is it about you staring, really, or about something else?
Yes, you’re right about the dark undertone. The working title was “Shit Job,” so maybe that sheds some light. I guess the poem is about darkness and release, in whatever form you might seek it.
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I love the spruce image; it’s proven to be quite memorable, as I see your shy dancer in my neighborhood, too. I imagine the dark applause as the windy sounds in the night, but there is a sinister undertone. I wonder about your title — is it about you staring, really, or about something else?
Hi Darla,
Yes, you’re right about the dark undertone. The working title was “Shit Job,” so maybe that sheds some light. I guess the poem is about darkness and release, in whatever form you might seek it.
Thank you for your poem, Night comes