Tuesday, October 1, 2019

Garden of Possibilities

By the shifting light
Of the waning moon
I watch cloud wisps
Drift across dim stars.

They curl and twist
In the night sky,
Changing their shapes
Moment to moment,

Mask the moon,
Then move away,
Revealing gleaming glory
That shines down on my face

And turns this ordinary place
Into a theater of dreams,
A shadowbox of mysteries,
My strange garden of possibilities.

©John I. Blair, 9/22/2019

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