The Watcher

Window in Strasbourg, France

He makes music
in the dark,
his heart beats
to the rhythm of the moon
. . . its expressive face
lighting up his life
as he goes - -
the old farm hand
lost in the winter
with his cart
full of offal
dispensing castoffs . .
his weary frame
bends to retrieve
another treasure,
like gifts gleaming
in the darkness
as he guides his cart
roughly
over a crumpled road
. . . the sound
of music rises to
the stars
carrying his lonely tears
in the night
. . . like a wayward sigh. . .
the tinkle of trash
well received
by this who listen . .

In the morning
before the sun arises,
the souls of geese
. . . honking
in the inky stillness;
pools of darkness
bloom around the sliver
of a moon,
and I wish I were
the white moth
rising through the
dewy air
reaching for the apex
of the moon
where fluttery
kisses will wake
his sleepy eye . .
and the cheer-up
morning song
of robins
echo in the sunrise . . . beckon
angels to tread
through wisps of breezes

I see you as you
walk towards me
your silhouette as black
as a hole in existence . .
The steam from your breath
rises to meet
the mist from the melting frost
rising like ghosts
to dance before the low
winter sun .. . .

White wolf

dreams in the shadows

of times long past

before the bite

of metal

and barriers

to her passing . . . 

her golden eyes

open

to lighten the world

and her breath smokes

through cherry blossom

ambiances

the sun setting the

mists aglow

the flames touching

the cheeks

of the watcher . ..

 

Royalty-free music for professional licensing