The moon whispers of her nuance, her hidden places
and her sovereignty over night, as the night hawk flies I hear
the cries and wonder at the solitude of her flight.
Morning comes with the sweet mutterings of sparrows
and the flowers turn their head eastward anticipating light.
You will have to drag me kicking and screaming because my love resides
with the rocks and the trees and my lover’s creaky knees
and as the rattlesnake’s percussion speeds the beating of my heart
I will give up the ghost only to marvel at the mystery of daylight.
© Tina Zabielski 2011-2019