The moon
Blooming
Giant oak
Bare branches
Flowering
Its nightly sway
Balanced
Between his wooded
Fingers against
Indigo her
White petaled
Dandelion blow
Into stars
The moon
Bloomed
Pulling oceans
Taut
To gaze at
Herself
In monthly passing
2 comments:
There's a wonderful flow to this poem. Smooth. Natural. // Peter.
you make the seductive pull of
the moon , touchable.
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