Poet At the Window
So there you are then
The full yellow moon
That I love to watch
Rising above my neighbours
And torching the Ngong hills
The solitary cloudlet
That seems to be preceding you
Is but a junior messenger
Sent by the wary stars
To warn you of their displeasure
At your rendering their presence
All but inconsequential
Already near here
The mist is gathering
And passing by me
As though puffed
To a destination inconue
And while I espied all that
Other clouds of a darker hue
Have gathered around the cloudlet
And formed a scary curtain
Ahead of your receding brilliance
Shielding me from view
Engulfing your very self
And leaving me to journey the night alone
Or to seek the duller brilliance
Of the distant Northern Star
But wait, I smell something
Like burning …
O my burning dinner!
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