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Magritte’s La Bonne Aventure











His wintry trees branch bare across the evening sky

And grow in orange light behind two windows.

The chimneys of three jet black houses do not smoke,

On their glimmering facades the light which glints

Is starlight and a crescent moon which watches all.

This night sky winks at those who share the sombre joke

But Magritte, says Ernst, laughs not. His stars besprinkle

Fronts behind which families lie awake or sleep

While trees invade unblinded orange rooms

And sleepy galaxies shape figures we invent.

A square of Pegasus forms and a plough or makeshift bear

Hides colours which betray their time and age.

In Andromeda’s line of fire the Milky Way

As Magritte paints dreams to wake, not send us sleep.


©Terry Hodgson2020

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