Poetry

The Nightly Year

Every night is a year in my mind.

A year on the backs of wild horses

gathering at the foam of waves.

A year of snow covered trees, imprints

of ferns wasting on clay soils.

A year of suns smiling the false

smile of happy attendants.

A year of goats treading up

mountains to the starry skies.

A year of auroras merging into

solid colour that we name ‘land’.

Every night, my mind plays

out a year. When I wake

the year disappears like it never…