Swindon
the english town in the early hour of darkness by tri tran
In the depth of midnight,
silence wakes to feel the unbearable heat,
and to taste the cry of a ravenous owl.
The young moon, crescent and amber,
looking down at the sleeping town,
Swindon, dark and quiet,
dreams to sail toward daylight
where its dwellers wake to go to work and schools
while Venus blazes in endless love.
The street cleaners have swept the woe,
left by the people. The rubbish collectors have picked thrash.
Morning’s still miles away, yet to reach shore.
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