Thursday, September 07, 2006

Under



Under

the full moon, everything becomes clear.

Shoe, shirt, leg, and arm diffuse
to weight, breathe, stride, embrace.
Light slides under shadow, and only
intent is visible.

The rest is camouflage.

2 comments:

Just Mary said...

The thought behind this brief poem is that when "things" become "clear" they disappear and the essence is all that is left.

Sara Kirby said...

You're writing is sometimes lovely.