Notes About The Poem
poem written based upon this image from Joyce Kolb (pinterest.com)
Drifting
the crescent moon cradles her
as though she were a secret
the sky has waited all evening to tell.
clouds gather close,
puffed and pearled,
soft as breath against her cheeks.
two hot-air balloons rise slowly,
their lantern-lit bellies glowing
like patient wishes ascending.
she follows their drifting,
steady as small promises,
moving with the quiet certainty
of things that already know
where wonder first opens.
she dreams again~
not of anything rooted,
but of the hidden chambers
where night tucks away
its tender, unspoken stories.
she imagines the moon ajar,
a doorway into silver-stitched realms
where clouds rise like steps,
and every drifting balloon
carries a secret meant
only for her hands to open.
she dreams the sky is listening,
waiting for her to whisper
the first question she’s ever dared
to ask out loud.
she dreams of walking
across the moon’s bright curve,
barefoot and unafraid,
leaving small crescent footprints
that shimmer behind her
like a trail of soft astonishment.
she dreams of becoming the kind of girl
who can read the wind,
who can hear the hush inside a cloud’s slow turning,
who can follow a balloon all the way to its reason.
as she drifts deeper into the night’s gentle blue,
the moon smiles wider~
because it knows
she is dreaming herself
into someone braver
than she was yesterday~
someone who understands
that the sky is not above her but around her,
holding her,
carrying her,
teaching her how to rise.
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