EYES OF A NEW MORNING   <return to contents

Blood Moon
Red heart drips
onto a budding cloud,
humid night accents
its full face
in a haze.

We drive, home,
two shaken hearts
with open souls,
nowhere left for us to walk
but up,

into that blood moon,
to cry in the center
of our pleading souls,
to lift our eyes above
the shadow dancers
so we can make it,
Home.

Another drop from the sky,
another, faster,
thunderclap overhead.
3 a.m., water pours down.
Garden drinks the blood.