Lost is the Daylight Moon

 

There are times when I see the moon during the day,

a grey-white cloud like the dying blossom of a wild onion,

thin paper, peeled off, fragile and flickering and left behind in the dark autumn wind,

and I stare, feeling that this moon is better suited to my sorrows,

and I ask where I might find my night,

my late-sunset sea that holds on to colors like stars,

and perhaps, too, the feeling of plant-filled quietness thereafter,

and the steady glitterings of evening birds.

I stare up for a while longer

at the sun-bleached valleys,

until the moon falls low,

and we both continue to wander.

Tagged: Environment, Life, Moon, Musings, Nature, photography, Poems, Poetry, Random, Thoughts, Writing