Guest Poem by Anne Stewart

Anne Stewart’s full poetry collections are The Janus Hour (Oversteps, 2010) and The Last Parent (SLP, 2019). In 2023, Eikon (Bucharest) published her latest (her 3rd) bi-lingual collection (Eng/Rom) any minute now / în orice clipă, trasnlated by award-winning translator, Prof. Dr. Lidia Vianu. She is founder of the poet showcase site,, Administrator for Second Light, President of the Shortlands Poetry Circle (formed 1911), and a Hawthornden Fellow. Her awards include the Bridport Prize and the Silver Wyvern (Poetry on the Lake, Italy). This poem is from Acumen 107.

Walking Home at One

I have told you how I love the air
at 2:00 a.m. when it’s so clean and clear
the night birds’ warnings not to interfere
seem to include me in their reach of care.

And, here, I’m walking home alone again.
But this is early by comparison. Only 1:00.
The town still has too many houselights on.
A corner has been bitten off the moon

and through some trick of light I can’t explain
Mars alone, butting pinkly at the stars, looks twinned.
The night birds are not ready, yet, to cry shame
on grey intruders crossing their domain.

It is too early for the magic to begin when,
because I love you, I forgive you everything.