Moonlight Stung
We sit
in awe.
We watch
that coiled moon of gold.
A mirage that
migrates the tops of trees.
It pleases
those lavish of summer,
those bees that sting
a summer moon.
Written for Poetic Bloomings: “Summer Moon“
Moonlight Stung
We sit
in awe.
We watch
that coiled moon of gold.
A mirage that
migrates the tops of trees.
It pleases
those lavish of summer,
those bees that sting
a summer moon.
Written for Poetic Bloomings: “Summer Moon“
It's Still Life 
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