Moonlight



Steps unseen, unheard, unfelt
Move me ‘cross the porch,
And down each plank without a bump,
By the light of the firefly’s torch.

The moon, itself, resides in me;
Its unweight flows within –
Pervading with its pastel glow,
My peach and pinkened skin.

My head spins round and round atop
My shoulders, bare and high.
My feet sense not the ground beneath,
But Nature’s airy sigh.

The roof below me, now; I see
The shingles weathered and worn,
And torn in scorn by wind newborn
(but sleeps this lovely morn’).

The horizon sky dons its burley self
In oranges, yellows, and blues,
As I ride the ribbons tailing clouds,
Upon this nighttide cruise.

“Alas!  Adieu, my shimmering friends,”
I bid;  “The sun sees fit to rise.”
They wink goodbye in preday light;
I make to wake my eyes.



Don L. Waddell, 1990