Montgomery Christmas Lights

29 11 2014

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When the heads stopped surfacing at the window –
like skimmed stones – there jarred three blue-tit taps at the door.
A man, mittened by orchard shadow,
pointed and hurried –
his torch dimmed, his urgency thinned –

as he passed me in the passage.
I followed him to the garden’s velvet dark
and discerned there ten muffled men,
all bowed to the pit,
quarrying prayers from the coal lawn.

The sunken outhouse roof
became a brokenbacked hillside
and a figure nearby shone as a distant beacon –
a cigarette in the sea –
until another pyre ignited and burning bulbs

lit up the garden like a skipping rope.
Once they gathered their fireflies,
Waved, thanked me, locked the shed,
Urged me to indoor warmth,
I sat at the glass and saw as dullness settled again

a dew grew gold and recollective. When I slept
I dreamt the scene but flourished the loop of light
with the familiar – the church clock, flicked ferns,
a wheelbarrow reservoiring. And, as I woke to winter’s slim sun,
I discovered my garden still decorated in memory.

This poem was written following a request at the ‘Poetry Takeaway’ event at the Gregynog Festival. A ten minute poem based on the anecdote of a resident who recalled her recent discovery of the town centre’s decoration in her shed.

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