Tossing and turning I drink the moon,
its tempestuous breath melding with my own—
I find the concept of ‘averting one’s gaze,’ slightly bewildering;
do they? Really?
Is that why we choke on reality?
Now that winter has moved on and the wind is ushering
apple blossom trees;
they never tell us about the brittle, naked limbs that stretch high
in the icy abalone sky—
I am slipping, stepping gradually through
the intricacies wedged within Spring are too small to see—
poetry after dark,
I want your lips, eloquent in their desire for a better world.
Leave me a note,
a whisper, a taste that follows into the stream of consciousness;
who can resist rejuvenation?
You set the pace for words to bloom, undismayed
I feel everything deeply: intentions, auras, acumen, flavours, nuances.
Is this not what the moon intended for us?
Photo credits: ‘Between,’ Painting by Mara Light, Pinterest
Posted for the Writers’ Pantry @ Poets and Storytellers United