Parchment Moon...

Muted Moon,

Whispers of White

stalled in Sky

as Night explodes in

Silence;

yes,

the Calm After the Storm,

that,
is True;

when Earth

catches her Breath
and takes a Moment

to smooth her skirt,

for you know
She would never wear a dress

though

once (Upon a Time)
She wore a tunic...

 

Soft, but soft

Moon's Music holds sway;

again up at the Witching Hour

The Shaman in me

will have His Way;

The Unseen,

the Unbelievers

who say it does not Exist,

like religious Zealots,

fearing to argue,

to Hear another point,

lest their World

come to an End...

 

Don't send me postcards

where you are.

write me a letter
about where you want to be...

circa Dec 2014