Slipping subtly through to lift the blackness is want; its brazen
light shimmers across dark waters, just outside, and streams in
through the space between my curtains. “Sometimes, all that a
heart needs is a push.”

In their dreams they sleep with the moon; freed of gravity, flail up
to dimensions of realms unknown. Herons, unlike us, fret not over
gulls not accepting them. I am a soft, silent September night sewn
by the sense of you. I tell myself misgiving is first and foremost an
external force, stating that one isn’t capable of handling situations;
are we seriously going to allow it to stand in our way?

I hold a perfect salt-bleached shell to my ear, listen to the voices
reaching out from all sides. Sweet, succulent, savory, the sting
that rises within erases all remains. I prefer stewing in dreams wide
awake.

 

 

 

Photo credits: Edward Hopper, “Night Windows,” 1928

Merril hosts at dVerse and asks to write inspired by a
line from “Death at Wind River,” by Mary Oliver 💝

Posted for Prosery Monday: Moonbeams and Moon Dreams @ dVerse Poets Pub