Reluctant Moon
A poem in phases
In the dim-lit murk of memory
where thoughts stick
like boots in the marsh mud,
I sink into an image of you,
under a full moon,
our first.
***
Seated cross-legged on the almost floor of the night temple,
A poem in phases
In the dim-lit murk of memory
where thoughts stick
like boots in the marsh mud,
I sink into an image of you,
under a full moon,
our first.
***
Seated cross-legged on the almost floor of the night temple,
Career journalist, essayist, fiction writer, and life-long spirit-quester.