Magic Pens

In the reading of a single line,
the world quiets; time becomes
another time. Boundaries ease
to markers for the journey.

A gentle touch; is it really there
or just the breeze? Fair winds
ripple in harmony, supple limbs
sway to the melody.

There is sweet music in magic pens,
sometimes a tempest, sometimes
a symphony…silver notes
like sailing ships

that brave the seas.
Stormy weather or
calm design, a journey
begins with a single line.

Sky Magic

Not even Christmas and you give gifts.
Last night a lemon moon
……………………………haloed in a sea of indigo
caught in the leafy maple outside the window,

……………….That great round light

…………….strung there like a pendant
………… held dominion over the horizon.

Crown jewel over hill and ocean,
captured
and wrapped up with a sigh, a reverie

to recall when days are cold and lonely
and night’s bereft of moonbeams’ gentle glow.

Aspects of the Rising Moon

With bold frivolity
you tease the windows
of this room.

You shimmer magic
on my quiet sill
but morning comes

and you hide yourself away.
King of night skies,
you are noted for shenanigan.

Neither symbolist nor mystic,
a Puckish trickster
you agile juggler,

You fill my dreams with lore.
My window waits each night
for your encore.