Moonlight

Luscious silver moonlight drips from the sky
Sugar coating every leaf and branchtip and
Even the sleeping lips of red-cheeked children.

In the morning it melts
Flows into the cracks of sidewalks
Deep, deep down
To nourish the roots of
Tenuous silver flowers
That then kiss the bruised knees
Of playing children.

Frost and Shade

Frost and shade, married in the morning
A curious mixture of white and dark
One created by the sun, the other by the moon
One is plain, the other gone too soon.

A decoration deftly done, every blade finely painted
A glittering wonder in the sun
Yet once looked upon
Quickly evaporated.

The Old Woman and Her Garden

She had kept a garden all her life. With Love she walked into that realm and brought Love out; in the form of greens and flowers, herbs and vegetables. Her garden was an extension of her hands, the essence of it living in the cracks of her hands and refuged under her fingernails.
Her strength was the soul of the soil and to watch her tend the furrows and beds was like seeing the Love of ages in person; first Love matured with a half century of experience.
In the very back of her lot, beyond the tended rows, where she kept the compost piles, was a wild corner; a place she left alone, overgrown, dense with weeds and grasses, matted furiously, dank and dark. For those with eyes to see, the fertility of her garden spread from there, in the form of a rich compost and more; an essense, a primal command to grow, to reach into the sky. A command to expand that made the fruit of her hands a sweet, delicious harvest.
From that corner, spread a smile that brought a glow of contentment to all faces. From that wild corner rose an etiquette of such fine metal, that filaments of it wove themselves into the landscape, so that even the streets shone an irredescent star dust.From there, the earth exhaled a peaceful fertility, a satisfaction, that filled all the empty places....quieting gently the greedy yearnings for the unreachable.
The produce of that garden was sought by all. She grew for more than she could use and the excess she gave to friends and strangers alike. Those vegetables were heavy with goodness and began to nourish the body at first touch. A tomato held in hand spread a rosy glow that settled in the cheeks. Lettuce like a bouquet of roses, a gift for lovers and would-be lovers. Carrots pulled from the earth, like the glorious rising of the sun; snappy crunch good, smelling of soil and sky.
Even children who hated vegies were transformed into brousing appetites; recognition and hunger rising into their hands, eating with abandon; sweet tomatoes and succulent peas, carrots and cucumbers bursting juicy with the cool shade of hot August afternoons.
She loved her garden, as it too, loved her. If she slept in her bed, she never slept alone. Her garden, like a considerate lover crept through an open window or under the back door, climbing vine-like up the bed posts, under her covers and holding her in a gentle embrace throughout the night. The wild corner found the wildness in her and the two held hands, laughing loud and talking long in dreams that fell into her mind like heavy rain drops in a jungle night. Her dreams were of the impossible born into reality. Of watchful animals and powerful cats; big, strong and strange. Of smiling-knowing snakes and reptiles not yet living. The wildness in her danced with all wildness. Her garden, her friends and yet to be friends, all hold inside, in a distant corner, the source of life; The Wild.