Moonset

We rose as the moon was setting
waning gibbous
sleepy-headed moon

We watched it
hesitating there
above the dark line of trees

Then we turned east

Roll on to bed, then
wake up the day

I thought of you
Moon Boy

This lovely lunar light
may it rise softly
over you

Learning to Fly (a poem from New Year's Eve)

Last year
we waded waist-deep
through a dark and shining sky

In the blackness
diamond stars spilled out
in every direction
the contents of some
cosmic jeweler's pockets
casually thrown

The year before us
seemed fragile
a terribly delicate thing

But that night
we walked through
wave after wave of goodness

And I thought oh
this must be how it feels to be steeped
in grace

Tonight
we plunged headlong
into the wind

Moonless and cloudy
the stars hung in clusters
on patches of empty sky
dark portals
from which the blackness shone
brilliant as the light

The year behind had
pushed me down
bending my slender shoulders

But tonight
warmth rushed wildly
over and around us

And I thought yes
this must be how it feels
to fly

-lisa, some time in the first wee hours of 2012

Moon Gift

Sometimes the moon
Rises slowly
Weighted girth moving upward
With some sighing effort
Plump, still-life fruit of a moon
Distinctly 17th century

But Sunday's moon
Rose fast and slim
Flat and round and rising
Sliding up against the night
A thin communion wafer of a thing
Shining there quite crisply

And I smiled at the night
The dark backdrop that seemed so strong
And the glowing, gift reflecting light
Offered as it hung there
That I might just look up
And accept it

Loita

What I miss are those nights
White-washed in silver
By the stark moon

Cold air
Sweet to taste
So pure and deep
I could swim

In the cradle of my loft
I pressed the night
Into my heart

Water
Running in the shallow stream

Nightjar
Rising up

We heard the laughter
Of children
Playing on the glittered ground

And songs from far away