|Fantasy Art Winter Moon, Public Domain, publicdomainpictures.net|
by Judith Cullen
The poem was waiting when I awoke
curtains reflecting the night's depth,
a beckoning glow through many folds
of lunar transit shifting soundlessly
from one to the other window.
What if I cast back the drapes, letting
the moonlight shine on my skin
as it drinks its way across the stars;
elixir of imagination, natural magic
conveyed in airborne beams.
What if I moved beyond the confines
of this definition, and that certitude;
allowing myself to drift without limits,
absorbing the languid enchantment of
a clear winter sky at three in the morning.