I step into the dark from the kitchen door
without a sound,
waiting for her to show herself.
There she is – hiding in the branches,
The redwood laughing at her pranks.
I stand, silent, waiting for her to peek through the leaves of the hard maple.
She loves to shine at just the right moment.
– there she is – she darts between the branches,
again.
And again.
I wait.
The trees wait.
In a moment, the trees shimmer,
A breeze running through the silence of their lifted arms:
Praying, dancing,
we sway, shiver,
bend to worship her.
Mary Elyn Bahlert, 4/10/2020
I loved your poem, Mary Elyn. The full moon rises up through the trees behind the house across our street, and both Sylvia and I, together or singly, always find ourselves catching our breath. Perhaps sometime, we can join you on your porch. Paul
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A fantastic poem about the nearest full moon this year. This adds to the pleasure I got venturing outside that night.
Sent from my iPhone
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