Raindrop ticks like a clock
Regular in its rooftop beat
Gently tocking seconds drip
Marking time as eyes drift to sleep
In morning light the day will wake
And so dissipate sound sleepers’ dreams
The liquid hands tomorrow will brake
Leaving less to signal night’s sly return
To wind the sky in tightened coil
Or rather assign the moon timekeeper
Who are we to command rainless skies
But entranced subjects of her tidal pull
~ Emily C.
felt it coming,
whispers in false twilight,
shivers in searing sun.
shade becomes night,
shadow shapes mimic
on ground, its clever canvas…
burning crescent eye in sky
while chill takes over skin.
chattering creatures calling
in flitter flight to trees,
day-rise only briefly lit,
morning woke the bees.
cut short sunrise, quietly it quit
as slipping lunar disc
slid, its blackest black
‘cross unseen solar skin,
ne’er seen with naked sight.
moon covers inch by inch —
flying 1800 miles per hour,
umbra turns out the light,
and on the night, it rolls,
a specter, a cosmic ghost
in transit coast to coast.
birds and bees go silent,
squirrels dart into empty dens,
silver light casts omens
in whispered ancestor tongues
of ancient sorcerers gone to past.
yet tears in present eyes are wonder,
witnessing science in eerie silence,
awe in precision trajectory,
we dare not miss.
coldness lifts as rays return,
animals disoriented emerge,
back to regular clockwork
as if nothing
to see here…
~ Emily C.
Eclipse shadows on my neighbor’s house. So awesome. What a stunning experience.
Prayers at the shoreline to distant gods,
mantras and chants for mystery maker.
Dark matter ripples gently move her hair.
Evening storm retreats, trailing shocks strike
as parting clouds evaporate like dried tears
she cried once, for life’s loves, lives lost,
while tidal waves yawn on black horizon,
swallowing all with a smacking crash,
closing in upon her beach this night
until in dark consuming light she sees
tides of stars at her bare feet, collecting
along moondust sand with each lick of waves.
In her graceful aging youth, never to be old,
she smiles — the stars gathered in her palms
chime as diamonds might in a gathered dress
that flows along winds of time — which pauses.
One dainty swirl and scattered again, they fly…
in the distance, a shooting star aims for her heart.
~ Emily C.