What if time sails like a ship—
sometimes still, sometimes striking rocks—
We recall the honeyed glow of before, watch shadows
born in moon-whispers grow–as after,
we sleep to the fiddler’s song, blue notes sprayed
into the night sky. The moon hums dreams of mother-love,
a thousand girls and boys smile. We ask why–
but there is this.
My poem from the Magnetic Poetry Oracle. She’s in a reflective mood.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
Eerily similar to mine…(K)
Yes, I just read yours. It is.
I love the way the fiddler follows your poems about and inserts himself when needed.
Thank you! You’re right–he does. I’m sure he’s a friend of the Oracle. He kept coming up today, so I thought I better put him in the poem. The Oracle obviously wanted him there!
She can be persistent.
She is very much in a reflective mood and you answered her nudge brilliantly.
Thank you very much, Dale! 💙
Sometimes all there is is just enough 💙
Thank you! Yes, exactly. 💙
Well said, Ingrid! My sentiments exactly about where the poem takes us.
Aww–thank you both! 💙
You’re welcome!
Beautiful, Merril!
Thank you, Jill!
Beautiful musing, if slipped in early
Thank you, Derrick. I like how you always look for that! 😀
🙂
This is deliciously good, Merril
Thank you so much!
“deliciously good”–I love that! 😀
My pleasure!
This is wonderful! 💙
Thank you!