Janice Fixter

 

Song from a bamboo flute in the dark

We hear the breath,
the movement of fingers

before the notes
linger like steam curling from the earth.

Half the moon has fallen
and wrapped itself in a bed of lichen.

There is a hole in the night,
soft and black as liquorice

through which we hope to glimpse
the Aurora Borealis.

The colours of the song
move through red to green and yellow

as if we are summoning
the sky to come alive

and dance for us.

Tonight, temperature is stretched like elastic.
Snap. Zero degrees.

Ice crystals glint like raven's eyes.
The flute makes no promises.

 

Copyright © 2008, Janice Fixter.

Janice Fixter lives in south-east London. Her second collection, a kind of slow motion, was published by Tall Lighthouse in 2007.