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