February’s end as cold as cave
found rain-dark houses grim like forts,
mere unremarked of the everyday
with drizzle, mud, a dog being walked.
Then fierce upon a frame lit large
with headlight bright as sun unfurled
caught clear on gabled brick garage
was woman taller than the world,
a mannequin who larger still
alive in catwalk shadow stride
up on the silver screen unveiled
slim struts and steps along the night.
A strange and spotlit trick of mind
of strolling that bestars my sight
svelte easiness of graceful line
she trips in trim and sheer delight.
But glare snapped shut to blackness soon,
no woman’s slender slinking then
nor in the scribbled trees that loomed
was striding to be seen again.
No marionette in darkness danced
as rain fell bleaker through the air,
just me with Plato thought entranced,
of illusion then become aware.
Refer to: Jan 2021 – Myths – a hit
What did the dog make of this phenomenon I wonder?
Love the snapped – slender – scribbled – striding sequence! Lovely idea well executed. Not looking forward to going back to the grim rain-dark houses…
Another terrific piece, Ken. You will be tired of my comparing you to Larkin but you have the great gift of creating poetry out of everyday speech and experience. When are we going to get the ‘Collected Poems’? The Bard of Barnsley. Eat your heart out Ian McMillan!