Mick Escott

UNDER THE MOON                                                                                               

 

In through the cathedral’s North Door

over uneven flagstones into the nave:

lo and behold – the moon vibrant

under the crossing

pitted sphere, the dark side

obscure but light enough,

vying with stone, shadows, space -

absorb and jostle on,

a greeting - Prosecco or elderflower,

a few canapes of beef, rare, and cheese, sharp,

in celebration, for this is an event.

 

Engage with a familiar official

mostly noted in the choir back row

cassock-free and proud

to promote, inform with relief,

after lockdowns and restrictions

to sing at services,

for fresh sound to swathe,

then more to entertain,

to boost the coffers,

attract credit cards and notes,

for films, concerts, even theatre.

I recall Henry V on tour.

 

Look anew at the crisp, cool orb,

pause,

immersed in its presence

stained glass suffusing

in twilight - the most seductive time,

liberating as the sun sinks

and gasp,

reflecting on splendour,

and note others affected,

absorbing another polychrome

of gothic transepts, monolithic columns

quietly massive,

permanent.

Under the Moon.jpg