In the friendly dark... - Dennis Brutus (1924 - 2009)

In the friendly dark, I wheel
as a bird checks in flight
to glide down streams
and planes of slanting air

so I turn, worn by work
and the dull teeth of care
to find your face, your throat
and the soft dark of your hair;

flesh lies snugged in sheets
the brain, wrapped close in folds
of the still-blanketing night,
awaits the easy balm of dreams,

but my heart soars and wheels
hurtling through the friendly dark
to find your mouth and your heart
and nest quietly there.
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