M. L. Kiser Poet Choka

No Rest For the Weary

Wolves baying at old
Mother Moon as she sits in
Obsidian sky;
Night slipped unnoticed;
Across the land, waking her;
Assigned her to work.
She and Sun will not 
Be able to retire;
They will work till death.

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Caren Krutsinger January 2, 2019 at 12:50 AM The last word unexpected, and surprising, delighted me instantly as the expected word was dawn. This poem has a subliminal ethereal quality that made me smile. M. L. Kiser January 2, 2019 at 4:11 PM Thanks; glad it made you smile again. I like the "subliminal ethereal quality" but, hadn't even thought of that. This was one of those 4am screams of Muse.