August 29

comments 20
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No moon for all this rain–
I’d almost forgotten how

to say it, how the night
sounds on the eaves,

a fallen world, the maples
heavy with it, the pines’ roots

re-establishing themselves,
how quickly we all forget.

I had a life before this,
with space enough,

and didn’t want
for much, there were

the stars, the moon,
and other silent sentinels,

some emptiness
but I can’t

quite remember
how hollow it felt,

the thought of you
spills in, now,

like warm marrow
in my bones,

or the yellow glow
of the low full moon

that I know is behind
these clouds,

this release, this relief,
I know just how

a parched world
dissolves,

easily, and with such
immense gratitude–

we’ve waited,
after all, oh how

we have been
waiting–

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20 Comments

    • Thank you, Shellie! It seems like poetry is attempting to use words to capture a wordless state of being… so glad this one felt familiar to you !

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Very beautiful. The spacing really helps maintain a smooth rhythm that seems longing and reflective. I really enjoy the lines, “The stars, the moon, and other silent sentinels,” not just for the alliteration… It seems original and refreshing. Nice job! Looking forward to reading more.

    Like

    • Thanks! I didn’t even notice the alliteration, funnily enough… poet and didn’t even know it! 😉

      Like

  2. Pingback: August 29 | Michael's Origins

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