of air and of light
embrace soft as down
love that lasts,
no rush
just the hush
of night,
with silver shadows on the path.
Dreams spun of cob-webs and corn-silk
to fold unseen in your hand,
held tight through the bruises of day
tucked in mind-pockets to stay.
Bring this much back
from moonlit track,
wind whispers time in your ear,
put the dreams in a book
where night travelers can look,
the least you can leave
is a map.
****
Of a Man With No Map to Leave
The midnight field is full
of old hickories
dry milkweed, mice,
and future factories
The sky is full
of cold air
small clouds and
moonlight promises.
He is what you call
an educated man.
He has a car, and so
respects the need
for wide roads and
fewer mice.
And the sky, the field
the weeds, the road
the moon, and this man,
they form
a circle, almost.
But he cannot quite
close the ends -
not with words
or mice
or
even golden
light.
Not even with the
golden light.
****
The Disconnect of Days
Under halogen lights
in cement towers
a hundred offices chatter
minds in life-on-hold mode
to settle the world's concerns,
smug with the satisfaction
of another fat file filled.
Driving home we can lose our way
stop in at a cafe to check the map,
in the parking lot a city sparrow begs
a raggedy kid asks for a loonie,
dead eyes averted.
The coming darkness gentles
littered curb sharps,
a glimmer of moon, first star,
maybe Venus if one could remember
or it mattered.
A breath of something stirring under leaves
penetrates the paper-focused mind -
suddenly all the disconnected
heaps of paper-work
become virtual toy aeroplanes,
shapes to hurl into hollows
seek out any woods that may be left,
find fields where wildflowers weep,
cagy coons forage, deer diminish.
The grief of no-map-to-the-wild
becomes the paper-weight
of your last
nuclear-lit days.
****
Madness in the Moonlight
Listen to me, she said
There is madness in moonlight
If you prepare to pass through
There is not just magic
In moonlight
There are ghosts.
Wild men and poets
Can die in that light,
If they learn that
Silver dreams and shadows
Is all they are.
We send them to rest
in dark places,
Lay secrets among them.
Scratch epithets
on damp walls.
Tell no one!
I can assure you of this, she said
Looking around
I’ve seen it happen.
I had no answer
In that daylight, but
I thought maybe I’d
Cut back on my moon-dancing
A bit.
****
Care of the Elderly Moon-Mad
Don't let grannie
see that moon to-night!
It's much too full and bright!
Lock the door
pull the blinds
early bed and hush!
If she gets out
she'll throw away her cane
do that dance again--
the neighbors will complain.
She'll come back demanding
sugar in her tea!
She'll start telling those stories
many times over,
won't keep quiet for weeks.
Her days in the sun are done,
no time of life to be a moon-rover!
She says she sees her friends
in some great fairy ride
they wave to her and say they'll wait.
And then for weeks she keeps
that damned moonlight
in her eyes.
****
You are part of the tumble
The others
Huddle in houses, cower in clothes
Not knowing of moonlight and dew on the rose
Peeking through curtains they see only the dark
Turning backs to the facts: they’re riding an ark
So their life’s not a fire, it’s only a spark
Amid rivers of eons, lost chances and rhyme,
And the eye of that lizard, old father time.
But you
Are part of the tumble, the rumble, and Mars
Of galaxies turning and hydrogen burning in the hearts of the stars
And the slow swing of moon from midnight to noon
While treetops catch light from drunks in their cars
The western horizon is lifting itself to the skies
The eastern is sinking to balance that rise
Your yesterdays gone to their thousand good-byes.
So you can
Stand like a saint, throw your arms wide,
Laugh if you must - it’s a heluva ride -
On a little blue ball in unending space
Earth and her moon and infinite grace
Years in their billions and stars in their trillions
Dancing around in gravity’s embrace.
Naked as dark and open to night
Celebrate your life in the pale golden light.
****
Moon-Blest Wishes
We close the magic circle,
gifts from the moon in our hearts,
may we carry some mystery into day.
We lost ourselves in grass and wood,
earth alive beneath bare feet,
made a connection
to all that really matters.
May the light of the moon
reflected through us,
shine on all those we might meet,
so that shared light in time
will illuminate
all of the darkness here.
****
Moonlight Wish
May you travel bravely,
With moonlight in your heart;
Dancing in the moonlight
Has set your soul apart.
May you learn to listen
To the wood-smoke in the fall.
May you see a raindrop
In a summer squall.
May you learn to touch
The riding of a bike
And share the grace of cookies
With people that you like.
May your crayons color
Church-bells in the dawn.
May all your poems be wrapped as gifts
And sent from Avalon.
May you travel bravely,
With moonlight in your heart;
Dancing in the moonlight
Has set your soul apart.
****
Dancers Never Die
The dance is never ended,
fireflies still will flit
from
branch to cloud's dark edges,
moon-maidens still shyly step
into the arms of faerie.
We are born to seek out how and why
through many lives until we learn,
the deja-vu of kaleidoscope moments
reveals the prism of moon-struck beings.
The orb that faithfully follows
earth's blooming and decay,
holds all the heart-beats of our kind,
pours them into tides and pulls us away.
Alone in her light we are never lonely,
the beam extends from cave to space-module.
In this dance we are always alive.
****
The Poets
Katherine L. Gordon lives to write in a secluded river valley, where she is free to dance unseen in a midnight moon-lit stone circle, following her Celtic Pagan traditions.
In day-light she is an author, editor, publisher, judge and reviewer, occasionally a prize-winning poet. Katherine is the National Coordinator for the Canadian Poetry Association.
Katherine wrote:
A Priestess Prepares
Return to the Source Vision 1
Faerie-Moon Wolf-Moon: Vision 2
In Moonlight The Sky Will Slide
Where Bones Dissolve
I Also Find Myself in the Night
Ancient Cartography
The Disconnect of Days
Care of the Elderly Moon-Mad
Moon-Blest Wishes
Dancers Never Die
Lenny Everson is a country boy currently living in the city. As a result he can be found on some moonlit nights running through the suburbs, pursued by the local Esthetics Police.
He has been known to call himself a poet, novelist, screenwriter, journalist, playwright, illustrator, and publisher.
Lenny Wrote:
Preparation
Snakes and Ladders: The Truth about the Moon
Three Masks
Stone and chalice: Earth, Air, Fire, Water
The Quarry
Finding Myself in the Night
Night Wind
Of a Man With No Map to Leave
Madness in the Moonlight
You are part of the tumble
Moonlight Wish
**** END ****