A Moment

Cynical Wordsmith

I often forget
The discordant upheaval
That is utter happiness.
I can recall the feeling,
But to have it bled into me,
To have it
Shot into this body,
Is almost always unexpected.
The words slowly fill my heart,
And overflow freely
And the imaginative dreamscapes take shape,
And as I look around into the glazed over eyes,
I see them see me, for the first time in decades.
We didn’t know had passed yet
Because we forgot how to care about anything.
We look to the skies before we fall into impromptu graves
And feel that tremendous heat radiate off the Earth
And feel that weight of every hope for all that we could have done
And we watch as the world grows:
more bright,
more beautiful,
more incredible,
more happy.

And it’s gone. A moment,
Maybe two,
And it’s gone

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The Crescent Moon by Amy Lowell, Artist Joe Gilronan

The Crescent Moon
By Amy Lowell
Artist Joe Gilronan

Slipping softly through the sky
Little horned, happy moon,
Can you hear me up so high?
Will you come down soon?

On my nursery window-sill
Will you stay your steady flight?
And then float away with me
Through the summer night?

Brushing over tops of trees,
Playing hide and seek with stars,
Peeping up through shiny clouds
At Jupiter or Mars.

I shall fill my lap with roses
Gathered in the milky way,
All to carry home to mother.
Oh! what will she say!

Little rocking, sailing moon,
Do you hear me shout — Ahoy!
Just a little nearer, moon,
To please a little boy.


Mayflies Arise by Ima Ryma

Mayflies Arise
By Ima Ryma
Artist Nicholas Hely Hutchinson

Millions arise from waters where
Born in the way of nature’s plan,
The mass moves upward in the air,
Together search in swirling span
Of light be natural or not,
Drawn to the source instinctively,
In totalness of what be sought.
Whatever reason such might be,
The sound and sight of all awing
Is sensed by any passerby,
Pausing to ponder such a thing,
That briefly lives and then will die.

The swarm of mayflies fly as may,
The lives do last but just one day.