The moon plunged into
the solstice to save us,
knew we were blinded by
gazing at the sun too long,
knew we had lost our night vision
miles back while we obsessed on
dreams of white sand and sun tan oil,
knew, too, that we, frenzied, were
senseless to the subtleties needed
to navigate the deepest darkness as
whole people.
So she rose full breasted and beckoned
us to look up while she gleamed her way across
the empty blackness that scares us;
a mother playfully coaxing her children,
she threw twig shadows at our feet,
and slipped behind our own ponderous shadow
to change into copper until we whispered
”how beautiful” and fell asleep
on her lap.
When next we stirred, cold
but braver about the waiting
into a day with still no dawn,
we found our eyes could
note the slightest turn
of ebony into late cobalt,
of fading star into sparse mist;
that turning, or rather,
an eye to notice that turning,
the kind of sight birthed in the longest
night’s caverns, is what some call
hope.
there she was again,
almost gone and grinning
at our new way of seeing, her
creamy circle of silk parachute
sinking in slow motion below
the trees into somewhere
we could not follow..,.
but look! here in our hands,
ready for our next night,
she left some shavings of
copper.
A blessed Christmas and a hope-filled New Year to you!
jnkuebler says
Oh, where is the “like” button? Thank you!
Elaine Dent says
And thank you…