‘…your hair was bound and wound
About the stars and moon and sun:’—W.B. Yeats
She wove a net
from her own long hair
and hung it high
in the lightening sky
to see what she might catch.
A handful of stars
that glistened like fish
like the silver mackerel
that roll and dart
in the dark of the sea…
A sliver of moon,
a gleaming a feather,
a white swans feather
that drifts and floats
on a midnight lake…
A fiery sun,
like a blazing fire
on a mountainside,
like the glowing embers
as midnight strikes,
like a steadfast candle
in somebody’s window,
that never goes out.
Jane Dougherty’s month with Yeats continues. I didn’t think I was going to get to it tonight, but here I am!
Sarah writes poems 
What a lovely string of images! I imagine a woman brushing her hair, and each stroke adding a new image to the string.
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That’s a poem in itself, Jane 😌
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🙂
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