The Rod and the Ripple


Going in one direction, always,

The moon knows to follow

The dream.


Stars change.

All over the sky, they wander,

They are scattered wherever you

Happened to toss them.

Depending on your mood,

As different from where you are

Tonight, as from last.


The moon stays close on the trail of a dream.


The sun plods so,

Like cows to and from the barn in single file,

Seeking food, relief from bursting udders,

Demanding, urgent needs, both,

Realistic compulsions, even,

But really!


I don’t think the sun has had a creative thought,

An enchanting dream,

In its entire existence.


The moon follows dreams.


Trout follow the hint of a tasty fly

Floating just out of their reach,

Just beyond the surface.


The moon knows both

The rod,

And the ripple.


Leave a Comment

You can use these HTML tags:
<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>