Northern Lights

He lifts the boy to sit
on his knee.
Uneasy with small children
it reassures him
to know his mother is close by
ready to reclaim her son.

Surprise when the small hand
takes his, the warm, unsullied skin
against his raddled parchment as
he turns the pages of memories.
When the child speaks
his breathe smells faintly
of peppermint toothpaste,
hair still damp from the nightly bath.

Tonight the book tells secrets
of The North where the old man
spent his youth, long
winters where the summer sun
sidled shyly along the horizon
and the dreamless night
seemed endless.

Here are pictures of snowy owls
with strangely human, golden eyes,
Arctic foxes and ermine
their splendid fur trapped
only by a lens.

The old man talks of countless
shades of blue......
"...and you thought snow was white?
On certain nights we'd hear
a singing whisper, a low roar
many miles away. Outside
celestial alchemy filled the heavens
with great waves of colour"

The small head turns,
his eyes blue questions.
"The Aurora Borealis.
Once you see it out there
in the crystal night you're never the same.
One day you'll look up too and see
the solar wind blow
a rainbow across the sky."