Its light spills out from everywhere—the moon–
a lantern in the sky, a mirrored sea
projecting the between of tide’s return,
throwing its questions at infinity.
The landscape shimmers, particles on fire–
breathes in, impatient, waiting with the stars
for orbits to conjoin as shadowed blood
that spills out, falling into otherwise.
Bewitched by moon beams, pushing into pull,
the spirits of the night become themselves–
a coiled diffusion standing in two worlds,
a melody that casts the wind with spells.
Transparent on the air, invisible–
the ancient shores of galaxies still call.
DVerse is featuring the sonnet form this month. I always have difficulty with sonnets , which is why it’s taken me so long to compose even one.
The clouds cooperated and gave me a chance to see the magical moon last night. It’s beautiful this evening, too, and equally enchanting.