Monday, April 3, 2017

Moon Water

Sweet and liquid night,
           oil in a well of murky water,
           floating atop a thick and endless void,
A lack thereof.

A mossy lily pond,
            touched with tiny starflowers,
                          opening and closing with
            the hours that transfuse
                          the night and day,
The clock of time.

Troubled is the breeze,
          a restless ripple
                        wakes across the pond
         or sky, was it a cloud?
                       or a shadow,
But those require light.

Moonlight, a reflection
          reflects again in the water,
                     a mirror to the sky,
          of images that falter to the touch.

Alison Day