Deepest night is brooding

through the window pane,

the moon's place has been enlarged

by a concourse of shivering stars,

each one a universe

a celebration of space, in orbit

yet succinct

not to be underestimated

in its soul-pervading majesty.

The garden trees adopt a pose

of watchfulness

and as my window opens...

I lean outward on the sill

breathing in the garden's scent...

implied fulfilment

of thought and circumstance

in super-terrestrial speech...

Now it's ready to withdraw,

shivering, indeterminate, and I'm

but a shadow reflected on the wall.

I surprise myself in the act

of yawning and, without demur,

stretch willingly my form

to loosen in my mind the ties of day

and give the rite of sleep its chance.

Margaret King,

Southampton

Margaret's husband sent in this poem of hers, from a book he has produced in her memory, writes Daily Echo poet-in-residence Polly Clark. Margaret sadly died last year, and the book is called Meditations. I enjoyed the poems reflective mood, and its enjoyment of the senses.

Send your poems to Polly Clark, Newspaper House, Test Lane, Redbridge, Southampton S016 9JX or e-mail:

polly.clark@soton-echo.co.uk