an April moon

Swelled low, gliding in the east,  a glow
that swallows budding trees and spike-top spires
to redefine a man made forest adorned
by bare branched signs of spring.

I have seen you before but never
through the thoughts of this day
the seeds of doubt that fly full born
were not yet blossomed in that season last
you were the harbinger of a reluctant winter's end

I hear the same songs, and can clearly see
they too mean so much more, and time has this;
a way of showing the softened grip we have,
as we squeeze harder to hold each passing day

and you, golden chariot
of a high ride across night sky
of tomorrow you speak not, and it is well...
for you are enough, in beauty

to transform darkness into
fascination with a gem.

orbit slowly

Sometimes surprised at the brilliant full moon
as if I should always know
when she pulls my eyes to sky and dazzles
in a swarm of memories, stirring hopes
as the scars that remind of the fights I made
the flights taken to rise above the tedium of passing night

She honestly replies when asked of the meaning
of every task, that press down like fogs
falling beneath the cloak of darkness
when cloudy vapors rise like ghosts of dreams.

Sometimes surprised by the pristine beams
that fill the evening yet leave it empty still,
and waiting to be filled by apology for the missing
and the vow to be...a presence in the present.

I do know, for I can hear the tinkled glass retort
when beams fall like icy petals, parting the cold.
Near ground where I orbit, slowly; held by the gravity
of tomorrow, and still I am sometimes surprised,
how she...is the moon.

moon ascending

Into the night,
up into the bright, glowing face
golden moon ascending
rising from jealous trees
that keep you from me and give
faint stars-remnants of even greater age-
a dim and temporary stage.

I feign surprise, that so many wiser men
have said this too, it is something
in you,  a trust, a sensed confidence...
a wish to share that impels thought-laden breath
to bare wit and heart

If only I could keep one petal
of this bright flower near, vagrant
darkness would disappear;
I would finally hear the magic
in sounds of moonlit notes, and fallen
crystal spines of life