Written by
Patricia Lang
January 2020

Some nights the sky is luminaria;

An elusive mirror, that quiet moon.

Snap, crackle, pop, stars “play” – plumeria --

The wind whispers, shadows sigh, lunar hewn.

Moonlight’s apt to cultivate euphoria,

But as I walk I prefer thinking strewn

By the moon’s essence – sanginaria

It’s the silence though, night’s saloon, attune…

I cherish this staging area.


(Perhaps I should include Tsuki-Yomi in my prayers.)

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