Oh, what far-westering moon into the early morning winter sky does crowd that sapphire plane in abundant silver light?
What dreams of fragrant flowers or wishes of love, are cast upon sleepers bathed in beams of magic light?
What memories of a primitive place, or tall-masted ships, come a-trickle down like precious jewels on the slumberer?
And have I never danced in the arms of a lover, that the full-lipped moon should touch me so? Or is there enough primitive beast inside me, brought to life by the eternal silvery glow?
I long for the arrival of the near-distant spring, when this same full moon calls me to fly, or to run through the forest with the pack, or to lie simply in the dew-jeweled grass and remember the far-westering moon, awash in a winter sky, accompanying me of a sleepless night.
2006 (Tori Atchison)
One of a kind beauty that catches the eye.
Lovely amethyst sourrounded with golden flourish moon.