The Moon A’painting

As the darkness began to fall,

Emboldened by the hunter’s call,

I slipped into the cool of night,

Gratefully released from exterior walls,

Though not interior ones.

Walking to the water’s edge,

The stars above a great assemblage,

I found the moon a’painting,

It’s brilliance on the distant window ledge,

Or was it only imagined?

A trail of glitter, as though left behind,

The lovely way the water shined,

I was enthralled, yet somber, still,

Could this very moon be only mind?

Surely there were angels.

Surely they sprinkled their dust.

Surely there were fairies among the forest’s trees,

be there must!

But recognizing, in the end,

That the childish ways must always bend,

To the ever flowing dance of water light,

Which fantasies cannot upend.

And so, at last, I laid my head

On the sweet, sweet dew of grass’s bed,

Allowing, allowing the ancient way,

To which I had been gratefully led.

- KMC c. 2012

Do you have an image that would illustrate this poem? Would you like to share it? Please comment!

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