Deliberate Moonshine

Nobody knows the back lanes
like this man.
The ‘Roads To Nowhere’
are misleading by name.
To walk hand in hand
with your wide-awake solitude
is the only way to traverse
the night-time labyrinth
of this sleepy Market Town.
Tawny owl meadows
up Valley’s slope, off that way.
Two Tramps at rest;
one under a bridge
t’other within a park hedgerow,
accepting the Autumn
deep into heavily pickled bones.
The graveyard’s a castle
when clouds obscure the moonlight.
As I tap, tap my skull-crowned cane
whilst whistling
‘The Old Rugged Cross’.
There is much left to ponder
as I minute-step through
‘The Witching Hour’.
Bodily, a prisoner of clock faces
with a Rover’s mind
as free as unpaid ‘Tick’.
I mark this incarnation
with a wink and a shudder
back down through the centuries.
Then step-up my amble
as the dark skies above me
start speaking of the returning grey.

Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world. He yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight; this too may pass, yet. Buy his books Scribblings Of A Madman (Lit Fest Press); Poetry From The Nearest Barstool; and a split poetry book The Raven And The Vagabond Heart with Bethany W Pope. You can also read his poems and stories here! Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.