the visitor, revisited

full moonTruth is, I’m struggling.

I’m reaching and falling.
I’m hemming and hawing.
I’m trying and failing.
I’m rowing, now bailing.

Stop!

Another day.

from my poem “Writer’s Block

My mind has been going a million miles an hour in a hundred different directions lately, and it’s making writing difficult. I’ve been working on a new poem (which I love) for the past several days, but I’m having a hard time finishing it. What am I trying to say? It’s a question I haven’t been able to answer . . . Continue reading

the visitor

paintmoon3Here she comes o’er top the hill,
robed in dewy, beauty white.
Seeing her, it is a thrill,
she’s always such a pretty sight . . .

And when she comes,
we mark the clock;
beneath her glow,
in whispers talk.

And wish we that
she wouldn’t leave,
but stay with us
just one more eve.

But on she goes,
and there she’s gone.
And we, alone,
at break of dawn.

Image: Pinterest