Sunday, August 31, 2014

A Madrone Gift

Imagine my surprise
To find this Christmas grove
In June
All red and green
With peeling bark
I slept beneath
Its spreading arc
And watched the
Crescent moon
The mist rolled in and I
Could see the gusting of
The breeze
As tiny droplets
Swept the ground
And scattered moon dust
All around
The graceful
Madrone trees
Some of the magic moisture
Must have found me
In a drift
Because that scene
Still comes at night
When I awake
To pale moonlight
And lingers
As a gift

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