Light Falling on King Lear

The lights cut out as dusk fell

on rehearsal in the handsome room

in the northern capital city.

The king paused in his rant

and we waited lifting blinds

to let the leaden daylight seep

past sleet on dirty window panes,

shadowless actors hunted candles,

music-makers squatted, sang,

we kept our cloaks and crowns of flowers,

joy subdued the darkness of the day,

the city, the dark night of the play.

©Terry Hodgson2020