Morning Moon

Morning Moon

She is the morning moon,
a fragile secret held above the quiet clouds,
a pale lantern seen only by those she trusts.

Sometimes I think she’s from the world of light-
separate from the material world,
yet brushing lightly against it,
like dragonfly wings passing over water.

From the headwater of the river
to the wide expanse of the sea,
her mind stretches a silver thread
and pulls me through time’s delicate fabric.

She carries love like a delicate incense holder
and lifts me above the smoke.
The world softens.
I inhale the scent, and for a moment
the light we descended from
shines for us again.

Reviews

[Michael Sun Bear]

Noah, this is just lovely. Light has metaphysical meanings for me as I gather it does for you. I love your close: “for a moment the light we descended from shines for us again”. Well written my friend.