Peter Chapman Poetry

Solstice Poem

the sun sneaks into my dim room early
making the quiet quiet

it waits a long while
before it goes down

the lake is still, out there
between the nations

soon a moon, the swoon of tableaux
lining up

the radio not finding the channels so good,
it won't behave; my hand rising to clutch
the throat women bring

a day of such hours could be just everything

that planet whir
so many loves, the lips holding softly, on