tagNon-Erotic PoetryMoonlight Journey

Moonlight Journey


Weary but restive,
she presses on,
wood smoke sharp
in her throat.

Beneath the Travel Moon,
a canopy of crimson
cloaks the hunter,
unwilling to rest
lest she be moored too tightly
in June
when the sea breeze beckons
and lands unseen
entice her exploration.

Her heart cannot be
confined by traps
of brick and stone.

Green-gold autumn
evenings are made for drifting
when the Hunter’s Moon glows
on the waves.

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bytrendyredhead© 3 comments/ 1976 views/ 0 favorites

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