Past Midnight – a poem by Kathryn MacDonald

Past Midnight

The lines cast off
we glide through still water
insistent weeds
and water lily leaves.
We slip past sailboats
held fast to docks
by tendrils of black or white
blue or red – lines like thoughts
knotted, tethered to dust
and ashes and borders
crossed – into a watery portal.
We venture into the other
world beyond safe harbour
and sense some things
have forever changed.


Kathryn MacDonald is the author of A Breeze You Whisper (poems, 2011), Calla & Édourd (fiction, 2009), and The Farm & City Cookbook (1994). She publishes freelance arts articles and writes “Eclectic Reviews” on her website: She is a past-editor of Key to Kingston magazine and previously on the editorial staff of Harrowsmith and Equinox magazines.


  1. Diane Creber says:

    this poem was a pleasure to read. thank you.


  2. Susan Ashley says:

    Just a lovely poem! Feel myself gliding through the dark water like a whisper ~

    Thank you, Kate~


  3. Linda says:

    Beautiful and picturesque.


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