Thursday, December 16, 2010

Thursday Poem - December at Dusk

A lambent moon just rising in the east tonight,
she pours her light across the sleeping garden
and the hills beyond, shadows painting the fence in
pansy purple and dusky indigo, the fragrant cedars
beyond rustling like thin silk in the hollow wind.

an inky darkness is moving along in the snow
under the trees, there's a light tinkle, the swaying
movement of wind bells suspended from the rafters
over my head, a sense of wildness and fey knowing
in the cold and starry fabric of this winter nightfall.

It's the journey's face, its true and ardent shape,
these lights and darks, those peaks and valleys,
the meandering trail into the bosky hills being
followed by an elderly shapeshifting acolyte—
she who is alone, yet magically enfolded on this
cold night in December's middling pages.

Sometimes, just sometimes, being alone in
the hills at night out under the waxing moon
confers a sense of community, a wild and gentle
benediction. It makes a passionate wanderer
long to dance and howl, rejoicing in the light.



One Woman's Journey - a journal being written from Woodhaven - her cottage in the woods. said...

The last paragraph I can relate to.
Warm rain falling, dawn has not arrived, and I feel like dancing with lifted arms in the rain - before I head out for much needed errands

Tabor said...

Lovely as always and it is interesting how being alone is part of a community of nature.

Sky said...

the evening shadows are always entrancing. such beautiful observations.

the wild magnolia said...

The mystery of moon beauty upon the woodland and humankind is always a thrill to me. I want always to soak up the moon-shine.

Beautiful Cate.

Thank you.

Anonymous said...

How evocative.