Secret Whispers Of The Moon Poem by Amy J Richardson

Into the field I walk at night
To pick a single blade of grass,
And under the eyes of a thousand stars
I look to the moon and ask,
What relevance has this
This slender length of green,
Is simplicity it's strength
Or are things more complex than they seem?
The moon of course cannot reply
She long lost her ways of speech,
She just gazes silent over the green
That does the horizon reach.
I trace her glance to where land meets night
And see there grows a tree,
A soldier guarding lone and tall,
What relevance has He?
Beneath the tree there sits a girl,
So very delicate and fair
And her eyes glow bright as her fingers dance
In her waves of silver hair.
As I near I hear her songs
Of light and worlds devine,
Of days of Old and legends
With meanings deep entwined.
She must have heard my footfalls,
For her song does quickly fade,
And she vanishes in a heartbeat
That moves not a single grassy blade.
Yet before I lost that silver girl
I caught a few words that she sang,
They were secret whispers of the moon
And now in my ears they rang.
So I gazed above to the moonlight glow,
The pearly beacon of the sky,
And I asked myself what the moon had told
What relevance have I?

(c) Copyright - 7.12pm Thursday 14th August 2008