How to Dance Naked in the Moonlight

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How to Dance Naked in the Moonlight Page 2

by Lenny Everson


  of air and of light

  embrace soft as down

  love that lasts,

  no rush

  just the hush

  of night,

  with silver shadows on the path.

  Dreams spun of cob-webs and corn-silk

  to fold unseen in your hand,

  held tight through the bruises of day

  tucked in mind-pockets to stay.

  Bring this much back

  from moonlit track,

  wind whispers time in your ear,

  put the dreams in a book

  where night travelers can look,

  the least you can leave

  is a map.

  ****

  Of a Man With No Map to Leave

  The midnight field is full

  of old hickories

  dry milkweed, mice,

  and future factories

  The sky is full

  of cold air

  small clouds and

  moonlight promises.

  He is what you call

  an educated man.

  He has a car, and so

  respects the need

  for wide roads and

  fewer mice.

  And the sky, the field

  the weeds, the road

  the moon, and this man,

  they form

  a circle, almost.

  But he cannot quite

  close the ends -

  not with words

  or mice

  or

  even golden

  light.

  Not even with the

  golden light.

  ****

  The Disconnect of Days

  Under halogen lights

  in cement towers

  a hundred offices chatter

  minds in life-on-hold mode

  to settle the world's concerns,

  smug with the satisfaction

  of another fat file filled.

  Driving home we can lose our way

  stop in at a cafe to check the map,

  in the parking lot a city sparrow begs

  a raggedy kid asks for a loonie,

  dead eyes averted.

  The coming darkness gentles

  littered curb sharps,

  a glimmer of moon, first star,

  maybe Venus if one could remember

  or it mattered.

  A breath of something stirring under leaves

  penetrates the paper-focused mind -

  suddenly all the disconnected

  heaps of paper-work

  become virtual toy aeroplanes,

  shapes to hurl into hollows

  seek out any woods that may be left,

  find fields where wildflowers weep,

  cagy coons forage, deer diminish.

  The grief of no-map-to-the-wild

  becomes the paper-weight

  of your last

  nuclear-lit days.

  ****

  Madness in the Moonlight

  Listen to me, she said

  There is madness in moonlight

  If you prepare to pass through

  There is not just magic

  In moonlight

  There are ghosts.

  Wild men and poets

  Can die in that light,

  If they learn that

  Silver dreams and shadows

  Is all they are.

  We send them to rest

  in dark places,

  Lay secrets among them.

  Scratch epithets

  on damp walls.

  Tell no one!

  I can assure you of this, she said

  Looking around

  I’ve seen it happen.

  I had no answer

  In that daylight, but

  I thought maybe I’d

  Cut back on my moon-dancing

  A bit.

  ****

  Care of the Elderly Moon-Mad

  Don't let grannie

  see that moon to-night!

  It's much too full and bright!

  Lock the door

  pull the blinds

  early bed and hush!

  If she gets out

  she'll throw away her cane

  do that dance again--

  the neighbors will complain.

  She'll come back demanding

  sugar in her tea!

  She'll start telling those stories

  many times over,

  won't keep quiet for weeks.

  Her days in the sun are done,

  her use is really over,

  no time of life to be a moon-rover!

  She says she sees her friends

  in some great fairy ride

  they wave to her and say they'll wait.

  And then for weeks she keeps

  that damned moonlight

  in her eyes.

  ****

  You are part of the tumble

  The others

  Huddle in houses, cower in clothes

  Not knowing of moonlight and dew on the rose

  Peeking through curtains they see only the dark

  Turning backs to the facts: they’re riding an ark

  So their life’s not a fire, it’s only a spark

  Amid rivers of eons, lost chances and rhyme,

  And the eye of that lizard, old father time.

  But you

  Are part of the tumble, the rumble, and Mars

  Of galaxies turning and hydrogen burning in the hearts of the stars

  And the slow swing of moon from midnight to noon

  While treetops catch light from drunks in their cars

  The western horizon is lifting itself to the skies

  The eastern is sinking to balance that rise

  Your yesterdays gone to their thousand good-byes.

  So you can

  Stand like a saint, throw your arms wide,

  Laugh if you must - it’s a heluva ride -

  On a little blue ball in unending space

  Earth and her moon and infinite grace

  Years in their billions and stars in their trillions

  Dancing around in gravity’s embrace.

  Naked as dark and open to night

  Celebrate your life in the pale golden light.

  ****

  Moon-Blest Wishes

  We close the magic circle,

  gifts from the moon in our hearts,

  may we carry some mystery into day.

  We lost ourselves in grass and wood,

  earth alive beneath bare feet,

  made a connection

  to all that really matters.

  May the light of the moon

  reflected through us,

  shine on all those we might meet,

  so that shared light in time

  will illuminate

  all of the darkness here.

  ****

  Moonlight Wish

  May you travel bravely,

  With moonlight in your heart;

  Dancing in the moonlight

  Has set your soul apart.

  May you learn to listen

  To the wood-smoke in the fall.

  May you see a raindrop

  In a summer squall.

  May you learn to touch

  The riding of a bike

  And share the grace of cookies

  With people that you like.

  May your crayons color

  Church-bells in the dawn.

  May all your poems be wrapped as gifts

  And sent from Avalon.

  May you travel bravely,

  With moonlight in your heart;

  Dancing in the moonlight

  Has set your soul apart.

  ****

  Dancers Never Die

  The dance is never ended,

  fireflies still will flit

  from
branch to cloud's dark edges,

  moon-maidens still shyly step

  into the arms of faerie.

  We are born to seek out how and why

  through many lives until we learn,

  the deja-vu of kaleidoscope moments

  reveals the prism of moon-struck beings.

  The orb that faithfully follows

  earth's blooming and decay,

  holds all the heart-beats of our kind,

  pours them into tides and pulls us away.

  Alone in her light we are never lonely,

  the beam extends from cave to space-module.

  In this dance we are always alive.

  ****

  The Poets

  Katherine L. Gordon lives to write in a secluded river valley, where she is free to dance unseen in a midnight moon-lit stone circle, following her Celtic Pagan traditions.

  In day-light she is an author, editor, publisher, judge and reviewer, occasionally a prize-winning poet. Katherine is the National Coordinator for the Canadian Poetry Association.

  Katherine wrote:

  A Priestess Prepares

  Return to the Source Vision 1

  Faerie-Moon Wolf-Moon: Vision 2

  In Moonlight The Sky Will Slide

  Where Bones Dissolve

  I Also Find Myself in the Night

  Ancient Cartography

  The Disconnect of Days

  Care of the Elderly Moon-Mad

  Moon-Blest Wishes

  Dancers Never Die

  Lenny Everson is a country boy currently living in the city. As a result he can be found on some moonlit nights running through the suburbs, pursued by the local Esthetics Police.

  He has been known to call himself a poet, novelist, screenwriter, journalist, playwright, illustrator, and publisher.

  Lenny Wrote:

  Preparation

  Snakes and Ladders: The Truth about the Moon

  Three Masks

  Stone and chalice: Earth, Air, Fire, Water

  The Quarry

  Finding Myself in the Night

  Night Wind

  Of a Man With No Map to Leave

  Madness in the Moonlight

  You are part of the tumble

  Moonlight Wish

  **** END ****

 


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