The moon and tides are so linked by fact and myth that my imagination goes wild with them. There are stories that connect them, and I create my own, some from a drift of thought, a snatch of sound, or a stray comment from a friend. I’ve no idea where my wilder ideas come from …
she sat on a moonbeam
knitting wisps of rain
into scarves for sheep
came a shepherd
counting stitches
“twelve” he called
and one she dropped
the stitch unravelled
down rows of waterfall
into ocean, blue
beneath her swinging feet
“drowned in salt”
called the shepherd
the moonbeam bent
beneath the weight
of knitted rain
and she slipped down
to stand breast-deep
in waves that skirled
above the faces
of her deep-water sheep
What a beautiful poem, Joanna. I am enjoying your posts.
Diana
Delighted that you like the poem and are enjoying the posts. I have great fun choose the poems and the photos as you can imagine.
Take care, Joanna