I am never over the moon--
She is my constant companion
On nocturnal ramblings
(Since the dog is occupied with
Matters aromatic).
Sometimes her face is veiled
With clouds of wisp-ered tatters,
Or heavier curtains of moist vapor
Through which she manages to glow
A damp greeting.
And when, once monthly,
she turns her face away as if embarrassed,
I content myself with awaiting
A fresh curvette of light
As she gains her composure
To smile again at her freedom,
And me at the end of a leash.

Labels: moon, poetry

A candle's but a simple thing...
It starts with just a bit of string,
Yet dipped and dipped with patient hand,
It gathers wax upon the strand
Until, complete and snowy white,
It gives at last a lovely light.

Life seems so like that bit of string...
Each day we do a simple thing,
Yet day by day if on life's strand
We work with patient heart and hand,
It gathers joy, makes dark days bright,
And gives at last a lovely light.

Clara Bell Thornton

Labels: New Year, poetry