Posts Tagged ‘night’

A Night on a Train Window

I don’t know that face that’s
over mine, it seems old,
not in years but in time spent,
it stares back, through me and
I stare through it
floating on a night-train window.

I focus on the whites of his eyes
to not see the black of them
and wish I had another drink so
I could forgive, forget the world
flicking by, through my
translucent face, printed smears
of distorted sweeping concrete
and light, black air and purple
silhouetted trees, missing fields
with broken flowers after heavy rain,
and litter angels picking up
what they can find on the streets.

It goes by so fast.
I don’t talk to you anymore,
you are in the past
and I cannot get there.

Am I the train or the dark air,
the seat or the glass,
those eyes or the sadness
of that translucent mess?

Am I the past tracks,
or am the next?

Kyle McHale            2016


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Meeting Winter

Over out across winter’s day,
A pale blue with wisps of white,
Some sad forest with autumn gone,
Those trees that miss the season’s life.

I wander through at easy pace,
No goal in mind, no worrying,
The cold has me awake and clear,
The trees question what life I bring.

I am no season or the sun,
I cannot stop the season’s sleeping,
I am here by accident,
I can’t replace what nature’s taken.

But life still stirs, just slowly so,
Among some trees the birds still sing.
Among the ground some life is found,
Those hearts still beat under winter’s wing.

Maybe my small heart still glows,
Reflecting golden hopes of sun,
The subtle sounds of winters woods,
Wishing for that warmth to come.

At night when dark and cold must mix,
All living hearts are little lights,
Keeping safe those that are around,
Giving pulse to the lonely night.

At last I’m trapped out here somehow,
My glow is fading but won’t forget,
Those little torches light the way,
That night when winter and I met.

Kyle McHale      2011

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Sweet Pickings

A farmer’s field picked up sweet
Summer scents from a sunrise glow
And vision had a feast to eat
So did scent when the wind did blow.

A basket filled with summer fruit,
Hard hands in dirt to smile high,
To Kokopelli and his flute
Blessed harvest it’s not too dry.

Please play a little note or two
Way out on the horizon line,
Those notes carry when sky is blue,
Perhaps this night is meant for wine.

For knowing love has filled the ground
At least for one more year,
Deep in the night the whispers sound
For rest and wine and hope and cheer.

A season lived, a season kept
In memories of cheerful kind,
Summer nights when the peaceful slept,
When a spirit flute had you to find.

Kyle McHale             2013

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In it’s White Madness

The veil of a moonlit cover
Dusts the woods and open field
With an eerie sense of wonder
And the moon dance that is real.

Attempt anything in it’s madness,
What seems hidden is highlighted,
What seems forgotten is remembered,
Those secrets kept are spilled over
And seep into all that’s covered

By that strange keeper over head,
That has tortured through the ages.
When in secret fashion revealed
Like prisoners broken from their cages.

A split rail fence won’t keep it in,
Nor stone wall or stiff tree line,
No door, no tarp, no roof is safe
From the casting white spell of moon time.

Go hide, go run, go lie in the field,
Seek shelter under birches or pines,
Run from the past or the darkness,
Finding you the spell of white moon time.

Dance in its strangeness and give up
The secrets, for it already knows.
The victors are mad and dancing,
The victims are hiding down low.

Kyle McHale       2012

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Silence and Light

One night I felt the heavy weight,
The heavy heart and heavy ache.
I questioned loss and thought of faith,
How you departing was a waste.

A simple night, and I alone
Looked over what was once your home,
A single pack of clouds rolled by,
Cumulus night in quiet sky.

Silence heard and silence felt,
I peered into the puffy heart
Of what became an opening,
A tunnel of a strange type thing,

A portal with no end in sight,
Then a silent flash of violent light,
A few more still, then gone it was,
I in simple awe because

I knew it was you, it was you,
Letting me see what you could do.
I know that we go to a place
Beyond that seen by simple grace,

And that you rumbled for me so,
Gives strength in knowing where we go.
Magnificence in simple-ness,
When subtle truth is not missed.

Do not invite me in just yet,
Those that knew you will not forget,
Silent rumble protect my soul
On earth until your light I’ll go.

Kyle McHale     2012

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Between Trees and Stars

What floats around the canopy
At night when owls and stars can see
The tops of giant evergreens
Where those wonders are seldom seen?

That place where trunks may kiss the sky,
Where wind and secret stars pass by.
Given life by remoteness deep
Into the woods the whispers keep

That very line a sacred place.
The last green needles seeking space
Towards heavens true star lit map,
An ancient road, an unworn path.

Between there sits some answers to
What can’t be seen in day time blue.
If only one could fly with owls,
Or travel as the grey wolf’s howl.

Kyle McHale      2011

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Orange Moon

Moon you are orange tonight,
For stars, clouds, my delight?
Moon you seem so in tune
And yet you are not white

Like when we stayed up all
Those times during the fall
And shared lovers secrets
In white chill I recall,

I gave you great thought for thought.
You rarely lit my way. I rot
When you need a peaceful word,
From my counsel you shall not.

Now sickly, faintly pale,
No orange men do prevail,
You stay so ugly orange
And lose your guided trail.

No moon of mine a bore,
For sailors on a shore,
To see almost red for
Good bait? Good hook? No lure.

May the sun cut you up-
The sphere to burn you up-
Who needs safe orbit now?
You have been killed enough.

If ever white again,
Do not call me my friend,
Because I want no more,
Of whiteness pure and lure.

Kyle McHale      2004

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