Length of moon: the shed poetry society

LENGTH of MOON

by Arna Bontemps

Then the golden hour
Will tick its last
And the flame will go down in the flower.
A briefer length of moon
Will mark the sea-line and the yellow dune.
Then we may think of this, yet
There will be something forgotten
And something we should forget.
It will be like all things we know: .
A stone will fail; a rose is sure to go.
It will be quiet then and we may stay Long at the picket gate
But there will be less to say.


I attended my first concert by the Bristol Ensemble at Nailsworth without the usual crowd of GS, KF and AH. GS used to drive us over. Now she has passed away, and I went on my own because there was no time to arrange transport for all three of us, and got a lift back with friends.

I felt overwhelmed at being there without GS, and nearly cracked up in the tea room when I remembered GS and KF and their collection of walking sticks and shoogly cups of tea! The concert was wonderful, as usual. I must make a determined effort to keep going, there is something special about live music that can't be found anywhere else. We were warned that the church might be very cold in the coming months: no one can afford to heat it. Wearing thick clothing is advised.

Afterwards, I got a lift up to Rodborough, on top of a hill, and walked along the ridge road until I was level with my area, then plunged down via footpaths to the London road, and up the hillside again. Thoughts of crossing over and passing over were on my mind when I caught sight of this poem, painted on to a shed by the railway line. The words captured my imagination, and set the tone for the day.