The Luna Moth sees me
Starlight wrested from its mooring of day.
Night-weary cloak upon me
the leaden weight
of joy
weighs heavy with the knowledge
the scales tip as deep
in the other direction.
Sleep a diamond mine trawled through
longing for relief
a thousand points of light.
The sullen waning Moon running rough-trod through my fears.
With each settling
the words
they come
insistent on my recording.
My hand furious in attempt at catching
the mind's flight of fancy
the heart's embrace
of a moment undone.
Vine and bracken scrawled across the page
painstaking indulgence
stirred by cricket hymn.
Spring's unfolding
redemption and torment
a banquet laden with fruits
soon enough to rot.
Not every bird caught in hand,
not every stone cast,
we set out.
Full and empty.
Clutching at pearls
of loss and longing
words slip by
many lost to the night...
