Tag Archives: the moon

The Moon Dancing

The moon is swollen full tonight,
her belly stretched out in the light;
that glow ascribed to pregnant maids
reflects down through the tall pines’ shade
and with a wash of purple blue
includes the woods’ edge in my view.

There in the timid shadows where
the evening breeze parts leaves like hair
a scent of cedar, oak and gum
plays softly as a guitar strummed
against the senses, soft and low,
as limbs brush gently to and fro.

Against the lunar silhouettes
played out along the low slung fence
the moonlight dances, shy and meek,
as if it would, should someone speak,
retreat back to the forest wall
and act as if not there at all.

16 OCT 2005

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No one stole the moon

No one stole the moon from us
by force. Instead, they bade us sleep;
in that little death our memory
faded, and our Mother’s song

(not the sing-song lullabies
or product placing jingle-jangle
from an artificial moonlight
like an android babysitter,
but the rhythm of our organs,
constant hum of blood in veins,
synchronized with breath and being)

was lost. And seeking to remember,
in a simple act of faith,
won’t erase the hurt and sadness
of our Mother, so long gone.

Why should she accept with open
arms children that spurned her love?
Why would she be wrong to need
a sacrifice from us to prove

that we were really looking, this time,
with our ears ready to hear
the song she taught us, now forgotten?
Where have we been all these years?

09 MAY 2005

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a wisp of purple clouded sky

The now expectant moon, hid by
a wisp of purple clouded sky
bathes all in dappled glints of light
that stand on open ground this night.

And those whose lives are passing by,
a wisp of purple clouded sky,
imagine some great royal thread
that washes down on their foreheads.

While some, their purpose soft, diffused, like
a wisp of purple clouded sky,
see out beyond the falling shade
and grasp fast to the day’s last sigh.

The past is gone now, put to bed,
a wisp of purple clouded sky;
and in the coming dark, new day
is birthed and takes its place instead.

I gazed across the roofs and trees at
a wisp of purple clouded sky;
and watched the moon, grown full and fat
sing out a soft, sweet lullaby

Now lost among dark blues and black
a wisp of purple clouded sky
much like a tear, first wet, then dried
leaves no sign to mark its track

And so, each moment seems to fly,
a wisp of purple clouded sky;
each separate color fades so soon
and leaves us staring at the moon.

06 MAY 2006

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Full Moon

There is a soft glow to the world tonight,
and the dark, dim lit streets, beseiged with rain
these past three weeks, shimmer silver and bright
while the clouds are wispy and on the wane.

For a brief moment, between summer storms
the sky is clear, and from its hiding place
where it has grown big and full, the moon comes
into view, the features of its round face

sharp and defined, like an epiphany
that fills the dull world with recognition.
Enlightened souls are like that moon’s full state:
While others absorb light, separately,
they, by their actions and disposition,
like mirrors, reflect and illuminate.

13 JUL 2003

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Even the moon is full with it; last night
she hung expectant, just showing past half
through her pregnancy, a pale shimmered light
that peeped through the clouds like a wobbling calf

between the legs of its watchful mother.
Under every leaf, too, eggs lie in wait,
and the scent of released pollen smothers
even exhaust and asphalt past the gate.

My own soul feels weighted down too, but calm,
hanging on each moment as it creeps by
letting it pass without regret, knowing that soon
So soon, the soft, healing and fragrant balm
of peace will overshadow the dawn sky
and I will hear the whispers of its tune.

09 MAY 2003

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