De Noche

  walking
through Burgundy night 
 
       
    limestone-carved cows:
from their jaws a slow snoring
 
     
  silent lightning in a last
ravine of terracotta sky  
 
       
    crickets’ tiny territories,
their electric alarms
 
     
  the nightingale in a far
tree: a chuckling spring 
 
       
    a hidden hedgehog
scuffling slowly past
 
     
  honeysuckle filling the night
with molten sweetness 
 
     
    hawkmoths rouletting
for false glass-glints in the gravel
 
   
  a handful of stars
in the long black hair of the sky
 
     
               all the gates of the Kingdom
             are open
     
         

(A night walk in Taizé )

Andrew Rudd