Full Moon, Out Walking In the Grass
Studding the greyed tangle–glints;
dew, drop-lit by night-donned light.
We shift booted steps to the side trying
to slip into our shadows
as if to make more space for this moon,
as if we, dark moving clods, could also spark
paled fields,
as if it were the sidelong cast of our gaze that netted
opals,
when, in truth, every star not seen overhead
joins us here–how rare
to walk through such
condensed blessings–our pants’ legs
soaked to the knees,
we laugh, laugh.
**************************************************
A draftish sort of poem for Marian’s Harvest Moon prompt on With Real Toads. My camera is out of gear at the moment, so this is a photo of a full moon from last year, which was on a much bluer night than the one the other day.
ManicDDaily 
Recent Comments