Sleepily sleepily
By moonlight, something deeper.
Now cars of bark and clothes of stone
Turn lidless black eyes to the pale white
Where, amid the suspended pearl,
White fire is funeral pyre
To deep forgotten world.

I creep through woody wood
Past treeish tree, stony stone.
There is a whisper now, of dawn,
But that vehicle, which is alone,
Sleeps in garages unlike these.
Here the water is not grey
But cold, and white as snow.

Tall shapes of tree and rock –
Mountains, I think they call them –
Glitter with stars. The stars glitter
In throngs of one another. They shine.
For a minute there is silence.
The stars glow. The night is.

I think there are still fools,
Fools who don’t know what this is,
Who, coming here day after day
Place it alongside their lives of Coke,
Of crisps, of phones, of cameras.
The thick wood and crystal lake?
Not so. Something deeper.

I turn round, breathe cool night air –
Stop. Still.
How strange. A house is standing there.