It’s a quarter to five,
still dark outside
and I can’t sleep.
There’s a perfect half moon
and a sky full of stars.
An owl hoots.
I can’t tell if the moon
is waxing or waning.
Waiting for the coffee to brew
I can’t tell if I
am waxing or waning.
Just another long day.
What secrets
have we forgotten
that we learned from the trees
What lessons
have the winds taught
that we no longer recall
Have the moon and the seas
stopped speaking to us
or have we just stopped listening
If I had
a Gilbert key
that fit the sun and moon
would wind them
every day,
except on the full moon.
Then I would keep the moon lit
and let the sun wind down
for a day or two
because I do so love
the light of the moon
This morning the birds sing me awake
to a lightening sky,
when ,a month ago,
the moon waited to greet me
before leaving in silence.
Today there is green
where all was gray and black
just yesterday.
Pink and yellow tulips
have appeared out of the dirt
and before them
purple and yellow and white
snow drop flowers
so delicate, yet so sturdy.
We call this spring,
but let us not forget
it is also a myriad of miracles
I feel like this needs work, but that will have to be after NaPoWriMo. Hope you all are having a fruitful day. And for those of you also committed to write a poem each day of April, we’re almost there!!
I am up before the birds.
Strange, when I used to sleep late,
loving the feel of my bed,
of sun streaming in the window.
I luxuriated in sleep,
resented waking.
But now I love
to be up before the sun
in the quite of the morning,
when it’s still more like night,
before the birds chorus
or the demands of the day.
This morning
last night’s the full moon
greets me.
It’s reflected
in the glass table top
next to my chair
and I set my coffee beside it.
The house is still, and chilled
but I am warm,
wrapped in my robe
with faithful Otis at my side.
This time, each day,
is like a secret I cherish.
Please don’t tell.
I love starting the day sitting with my dog, Otis, before the demands of the day. I hope you have an equally good start to your day. Cheers.
Another full moon
poses above us.
Gently, she lights the way
as we creep, or dance, or stumble
through another night.
And perhaps we pause
to admire her for a minute or two.
And when we go in
she beckons us
through the bedroom window:
Come out and play,
come out and live.
Do not sleep your life away
silly mortals!
You have such a short time…
What she doesn’t know
is that we are in love
with sleep
with dream
with death
Well, this didn’t go as planned. (Maybe because I didn’t really have a plan?) I feel like I should spend a lot more time with this one, and that the end result will be quite different. Maybe even a couple of pieces that are quite different. But for now… the day job beckons.
I sit with the moon
when everyone else
is tucked away, dreaming
I recite the stars
like a litany
rolling them
around my mouth
touching each tooth
one by one until I have
emptied the sky
I hold the disk of the moon
under my tongue
and count to one hundred
I feel it dissolve
as the silvery coolness
slips down my throat
curls in my belly
I swallow the moon
then keep her wisdom
in my blood
under my skin
no one knows
but they can see
I am radiant
You might want to take a peek at Verse Escape.
The moon is no colder
in December
and only a bit older
in January
yet we call her
Cold Moon, Old Moon
and to try and contain her in our words
There is a time
closer to night than morning
when parties fall
into ruin
and the moon wearies
There is a time
when dreams are forgotten
and shades
lose their way
There is a time
when the clock
gives up its hands
and the hours pool
on the ground
running to regret
This is my time
This is for my friend Joy’s FF55 revival at Verse Escape, even though it’s not Friday, and if you’re counting, there aren’t 55 words.
In Other Words 