How do I know the moon is there in the sky grey with clouds, darkening?
I’ve been having dreams again but they fade, soft wind chimes tinkling.
Sometimes even careful words miss making their connections.
The owls call back and forth—tiny full moons floating between them.
I’ve been having dreams again but they fade, soft wind chimes tinkling.
A porthole opens up in a cloud-ribboned sky.
The owls call back and forth—tiny full moons floating between them.
The answers I’m looking for might take some time.
A porthole opens up in a cloud-ribboned sky.
(Are my choices faith, repetition, astronomical calculation?)
The answers I’m looking for might take some time.
What guides the crows flying northward each evening?
Faith? Repetition? Astronomical calculation?
Sometimes even careful words miss making their connections.
What guides the crows flying northward each evening?
Do they know the moon is there in the sky grey with clouds, darkening?
—
Marjorie Manwaring lives in Seattle where she is a technical writer and poet. She is the author of Search for a Velvet-Lined Cape (Mayapple Press, 2013) and What to Make of a Diminished Thing (Dancing Girl Press, 2012).
