Moonstruck
The roundness of a drop of water
keeps me stuck on spin,
no flat earth could wash so cleanly.
The moon could be hollow,
it rings like a bell when struck.
I study bells and their carved-out emptiness.
I interpret tones and their bongs
into words.
Last evening
I was distracted by moonlight -
it trembled.
Light is so much faster
than bells chimes.
Patiently I waited in the shimmer,
then came the deep and distant ringing.
The sleeping birds heard it also,
Owls spun their heads
like silver coins.
A thunderstruck night sky
intoned its obscure vespers.
Ears detecting, but the sound
seemed not so much outer
but inwards -
a vibrations of being.
The chipmunk
who had raced here and there all day long
stood as still as a tiger
eyes alight
in the burning bright hollowness
of that carillon call.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment