Life With Horace

poetry & essays


Leave a comment

night lit

my woods are hung
with lamp lit moonlight
shallow beaver wash
turned into opal pools
picked out by
beams that launched
diffused through
vapor rings we know
are ice but touch
us softly

__________________________
Day 22. We have just had a full moon, fitting for the week of Earth Day.


Leave a comment

Transition from moonlight

Awake not by choice,
my mind wanders freely
to think about change
as a passage, a progress.
Seeing light through the window
too early for sunrise,
the lamp of the huntress
sends beams without warmth.
As the moon sets I rise,
glance out at the shapes
tall pines against sky,
emerging from darkness
to frame the new day.


Leave a comment

First quiet

The morning’s first quiet.
This time to myself
is precious and needed,
reflection and energy
both brew with my coffee.
Music a backdrop,
dogs fed and peaceful,
warming my feet.
This moment’s soft hug
the day’s work ahead.

______________________________
an early morning shortling.