Wild Moon of Magic
I was quite the cunning magician, famed for my illusions and sleight of hand,
Like cool tricks that jade green nature plays, that often we don't understand.
Days were filled with wonder and enchantment, like purple, star aster fields;
And the wonder of a coral, orange and red sunset, after a day of teal thrills!
The tradition of magic goes back centuries, as we frequently favor familiarity,
As sizzling sun follows the same golden path, amidst a pink peony prosperity.
Beside flower fields of blueberry fortune, friends in fashionable hats flaunted,
Like the splashy beauty of aurora, always on morn maroon scene, undaunted.
Fuchsia sun flamed with fiery ferocity, on fine days of famed, family Fridays,
When fabulous was found in blue flowers, or in sunup, diamond, dew diaries.
I lived in the house of endless charms, and green nature's vanishing moods,
Day to night, season to season, as after storms, a bittersweet sunset broods.
Song flowed from my street's silver maple trees, lending music and scenery,
Like the stubborn flow of selfish currents, or willful return of spring greenery.
Napaea butterflies bedazzled noiselessly, searching nectar of nurturing June,
As nature-loving, near neighbors visited, at morning, or below apricot moon.
Tangelo sun unleashed magenta flowers, just to make blessed people smile,
As green grass of pink picnic days, lured worldly weekenders to stay awhile.
Nature's riches poured on colors, striking sidewalks in gold, bouncing beams;
And tuxedoed birds flew in sun and shadow, amid folk songs on tambourines.
One night I gazed at magnetic, mellow moon, thinking the sight so magical.
Then I heard tinkling silver dollars falling, like a wild moon turned fanatical!
Dropping on the porch of peaceful, painted views, enriching my ruddy heart,
It was hard to believe my wide open eyes, like the flavor, unexpectedly tart.
With a tinkle, ting, clink, clank and jingle jangle, the odd night rain went on,
Like melodious rumbling that is thunder's habit, as birds flee the green lawn!
Watchful 'night' owl hooted mysteriously, while I filled my pockets, laughing,
Like skipping stones on a giggling brook, when a purple mist is just passing.
At last, I went to sleep, elated, in a rock a bye world of tremulous darkness;
And orange, rosy dawn revealed no coins, only yellow birds soaring, starless!
Then, I reached the inescapable conclusion, that full moon had had a dream,
Marvelous, meaningful and memorable, and apparent in tangible moonbeams!
Copyright ©
Evelyn Judy Buehler
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