Banana moon slicing through bare branches
Peeking around winter-brittle twigs,
One dead dangling leaf.
I want…
To paint a face on you, Laury-style,
Sliver of gleaming silver
Giant comma punctuating the pre-dawn sky,
I see…
You diminishing, shrinking,
Weary of lighting the
Way for the dark-travelers.
I wonder…Where do you go to sleep?
Are there jumping cows and fiddling cats there?
Why does no one ever fall in love
By the light of the waning moon?
1 comment:
Oh Evelyn-I thought I spied a little New Orleans in there-I, of course love every word!-Love, Laury
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