Early frost whitens the morning
All I’d hoped to do this summer
is now lost in autumn’s darkening.
I cannot sleep, am adrift, a thousand miles alone
but moonlight fills my heart
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Early frost whitens the morning
All I’d hoped to do this summer
is now lost in autumn’s darkening.
I cannot sleep, am adrift, a thousand miles alone
but moonlight fills my heart
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Bone white Moon climbs high over rooftops
ancient scars pockmark her face
scudding clouds drape mystery around
her astronomical mass
Here on my sleep-silent street
halogen is queen, blue-white brilliance
tempered by garden trees that
stroke and wrap their cones of light
The moon sees nothing of this
Copyright © 2021 Kim Whysall-Hammond
The Moon has just
blown a kiss to me
which spirals
and spurls across space
floats gently on the atmosphere
then sinks
is buffeted by winds
shot up and down in a thundercloud
finally to settle on my lips
cool blue sentiment
suffuses my body
places moonbeams in my hair
Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Moonlight has banished an ocean of stars,
pouring molten silver across the water.
Murmuring waves remember a primal ocean,
write poetry in their foam,
erase the day from a busy beach.
A harsh breeze crashes across treetops
as if breaking on a coral reef
and distant sea-birds call evenings end,
sharp disembodied sentinels of the night.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond