Fresh snow fell yesterday and more
will come tomorrow, but in the still
between-time, a full moon sits high
in the sky, casting steely shapes on
the ground, dimly lit to a haunted
gray pallor. Unnatural colors that did
scare me as a girl, when my shadow
chased me for sport. Turn away from
the false lights of the house, give in
to the restlessness and walk the blue
pasture, boots crushing thin ice to
the powder below. Drawn to the
light that darkness holds, midnight
sky over glittering earth, to greet
those that still live in the shade of
the moon. Dear ghosts, come find me.
โฆ
Anna Blake at Infinity Farm
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cold words, warm intent. Perfect balance. <3
Thanks, Sandy.
That snow moon was frosty, pun intended. Great poem! I could feel the cold crunch in the magical dark.
Thanks, Therese. What a beautiful night.
I feel this poem in my bones. And i spent the last couple of hours thinking today is Monday ๐
Thanks, Kate. I appreciate your kind words, but I’m really glad I’m not the only one lost in time.
Your Monday poem and Friday blog have become 2 of my most reliable barometers.
This is my first miss in ten years… weirdly early and not late. Go figure. ๐
Some nights those shadows still spook me, and Iโm no girl. Maybe itโs the cataracts.
But the darkness you describe is more often such a deep, silent, comfort on moonlit nights with stars in view.
Thanks Anna for putting beautiful words to my awkward thoughts.
๐
Beautiful. Your words transported me through the wardrobe door.
Thanks, Sueann