When I hear on the car radio
I don’t go home. Instead I remember
advice and head up up to the hilltop.
Along midnight lanes headlights flash
stane dykes, mercury puddles, fields of stubble
and dark
Fierce rocks pinned solid against the skyline
– the Castle, Arthur’s Seat.
Ancient light spangles the sky.
But no Borealis cavort, no Aurora dance
in emerald and magenta silk. Only innocent white
pricks timeless black
Near home, blue light sways with pale
sprites as tvs flit in living rooms .My neighbours
blinkered eyes look inwards.
Their energy saps the earth
Open Mic Photo’s
