March Poem 2020


The moon awoke me

howling for attention

the stars were distant, aloof

a few gregarious, Gregorian twinkles

made celesta accompaniment

lunar fugue

a chorus of seas

echo of my cathedrals

trumpets and choirs

the organist’s foot pedals

faster than tap

Did the moon not wake you?

No tom toms, no Tchaikovsky cannons?

Oh your serene dreams of a

more melodious siren

That is why I love you

listening to the moon in your eyes

Ry Southard

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