Adrift at 2 a.m.
by Kristina Woodhill
Were I the waxing gibbous glow,
Star strolling just beyond my uncurtained window,
Rather than a supine insomniac,
Staring wearily at a fuzzy lit ceiling
In gray streaks
Of an unskilled water colorist,
I might bask in my reflective self
And my place in this elegant ecliptic,
Dance sparks and specks
Along winter poplars' waving bare arms;
Play hide 'n seek with teenage couples
Dodging prying porch lights,
Staring with wonderment
At their finger tips still aflame;
Or turn tail and moon
That star-studded hunk, Orion,
But for his quiver and bow
Posted on 02/21/2016
Copyright © 2023 Kristina Woodhill
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 02/21/16 at 07:04 PM|
As a life long moon and star gazer, I really enjoyed this, Kris. Love the depths and ways of its imagery/descriptiveness. Kudos!
|Posted by Rob Littler on 02/21/16 at 07:43 PM|
...brings to mind the greyest of evenings when that borrowed light from a dying sun illuminates more than just the surface, when our shadows mingle with the breeze, and the expanse of our being opens up to the infinite, and eternal. Loved it!
|Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 02/21/16 at 08:20 PM|
*****STELLAR*****(always enjoy your work)
|Posted by Laura Doom on 03/14/16 at 12:10 AM|
I'm reading this as it has a title that seduces me--no surprises; but really it's because I enjoy seeing you play. All work and no little pleasure...