Equinox — a poem

I was born at the onset of fading light
September 23 to be precise
Equinox they call it, Monday past
For a moment, the sun directly above
Makes equal day and night
In me, a sometime Holy sprite
Other times, much darker
They likened me to that girl
You know, the one with the curl
Perhaps I never was balanced right
Perched on the cusp of day and night
Don’t even ask about Libra or Virgo
I never did know, can’t tell now
They say, there’s only ten minutes in it
But sometimes, Goddamn!
That’s just enough to win it
And so I did, I won the cup in all
My glorious angelic white
With a dash of devilish red
That’s right, I always was and will be
A Holy Terror!

© simon heathcote

Simon Heathcote - Medium