Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Morning Moonlight

The birds sing--reach my senses
as a bouquet of yellow freesia and pink sweet peas.

I sit up in bed, look out the window and a bright light is beaming at me; it is the moon. I sit up taller and it's as though the moon is merely feet away from the trees below and speaks to me--whispers, here I am.

The hush of the morning enveloped in birdsong, the moon, and the faint breeze tickles my spirit--we breathe as one golden ray of light.


Vincent said...

What a coincidence, dear Rebb. I'm drafting a post on birdsong too, and its synaesthetic effect - getting mixed up in other sense-inputs, insinuating itself into our very souls, and inspiring lovers (or fooling lovers) into big commitments!

Rebb said...

What a wonderful coincidence, dear Vincent--that across oceans, we can share in these lovlies. I look forward to reading your post!