A.W. Books & Poetry

Tell me, cicadas, why the stars blink,

Like winking angel eyes,

In the sky’s pot of ink,

And shooting stars play tag

With comets and eclipses?

All these thoughts come off my lips

When longing at the abyss,

Oh what a world is this?

And do take the time-if you might,

To bore me with the sights

Of constellations ribboning

Over a navy satin night,

Under the full moon billowing,

Like a dandelion fluff queen,

And an opal soaked jewel

The most enticing Fleur de lune.

Oh, and barn owl, please tell me why

The nightly breeze always finds me

No matter how hard I hide,

I fall in love with its gentle flight

Through my open bedroom window

And how it holds me through my plights,

Tells me tales of long lost memories,

And brings tidings of the nymph’s night

I often wondered why the toad

Chooses not to croak in the day,

Until I spent my evenings wandering,

Now dusk is where I play

Midnight is my muse,

An oath I ought to convey,

And indigo hides what the wondering might find in the bruises of the day.

–Annalise