An Enchantment

O, mellow fields
the stars are strung above you
in delight.  Fireflies flit beneath them,
everything is flickering.

There’s no need for a candle;
the night is warm, the moon is shining.
Flute notes of the nightingale’s song
whisper hints of ancient secrets.

The breeze says summer will last forever;
It is easy to believe.

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.

Moon Wise

Her pillow
pummeled then plumped,
beat to a pulp,
wet with tears
or sweat,

There’s so much to fear
in the dark.  But what is there,
really, to make icicles
inch down her spine and parch her mouth
with mute screams?

One wouldn’t fear the wind.
It croons and keens
and occasionally rages
but it doesn’t come in —
and the trees,

they love its bedouin flirtation.
There are the shadows, but who
would be scared of such dancers?
The limbs dip in time to their own drum,
the curtains swell to reach them.

The stars
don’t instill terror.
They twinkle and spark,
candling the night
with distant flame.

Maybe it’s the moon,
that good-natured round face
caught in a wink, sneaking
magic into her dreams;
filling her heart with wanderlust.

The moon
is a wise old scholar.
His head at a tilt,
he sees all
and knows there’s nothing to fear
but one’s self.

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.

Origami Moon

There is no such thing
as an origami moon;
some things can’t be made out of paper,

You can carve a planet
out of an apple,  or extrude
plastic roses to your heart’s content,

But it’s evident, and I’m sure I’m right,
the best you can hope for from a man-made moon
is the promise of artificial light.