by Mark Head

Crescent moon’s face half obscured by rolling purple cloud, gentle rain falling, falling
Droplets fine as mist a glistening high from shaded starlit sky
Moonlight, pathfinders of emotion glides, so far, so far, so near, so high
Lancing downwards deeper through mute canopy of trees
Arms swaying softly, airy, from the kisses of light breeze
And canopied by leaves, the rain, now darkened, slanting gently downward falls
Round leaf earthward pointing, forming rivulets of mini waterfalls
Where brother rain and sister mist slowly swirling, dance
And spearpoint leaf suspended droplets pirrhouette and prance
Backlit by moonlight’s glance
Each suspended droplet a bay window framed by water’s silhouette
The image of the muse within, curtained by mystic light
Before the altar of the sun, the moon, the earth, the water and the sky
Hear the gods of heaven pray relief from evening’s sigh.


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