The Bird and the Moon
(Re old poems)
In the middle of
a dream was I when,
suddenly a sound,
which I thought profound,
woke me up at night..
Squinting my eyes,
got up to sight,
bluejay shrill on,
my window sill;
air wrapped in,
a fine mist,
it sparkled,
like pearls,
on moon-
beams..
moon-
dust shone
through the
window as
glistening
long white trail..
Down swooped the bird,
looping cold rays,
I fell under
magical spell;
Fumbled for my limbs,
wibbly wobbly things;
held fast on the bed,
I was covered in
fine silver cobwebs ...
~
Form : Diminishing and Advancing Hexaverse
(3/20/12)
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