A Poem-A-Day Celebration

Poem submission by Amanda Jo

A cracking noise and the moon fell from its place between the stars 

The weathered orb shattered on the dirt

And through the dust you saw a stormy-eyed woman, with braided hair and a gypsy soul,

Weaving a golden sunrise morning

She searches through the debris and drags away a smooth crescent piece

She walks tilted,

Like her left arm is heavy

Her hips jut forward,

As if she were being pulled by a string around her waist

In her wake she leaves a sweet-scented honeysuckle path and a fluttering trail of butterflies 

She left you spellbound; a kind of understated magnetism

You recognize her as the mystic; a woman bearing a round, owl-like face, intended for smiling

She has bent you into an emotional being;

Wearing suction-cup eyes and following feet   

As the sun’s warmth dulled behind the mountains, she tied a cord around the ancient, crescent chunk, and hoisted it into the sky

She filled your empty hand with hers and whispered,

“Leave behind anything you cannot carry and follow me”

She guided the way by the light of a moonbeam she trapped in a tin can years before she learned of catching fireflies

She taught you how to ask the sunflower heads to follow the suns path across the sky

And how to curl seahorse tails and butterfly tongues

She explained how to smell the earthy undertones of rain on warm dirt

And showed you how to open the moon flowers petals to bathe in the moonlight,

Grateful for every moment for she knows the bloom will wither in the morning sun

And at the end of the lunar cycle, as you walk hand in hand, she quietly says,

“I’ve given you a reason,”

Her eyes held tears when she twisted around,

“Remember that connection; the pure rain from the sky only comes from pure water on the ground”