Moon Haiku #812

waning gibbous moon
my poems to you unheeded
drawn-out desertion

Holly mine, divine,
aptly named prickly beauty,
my love evergreen

Instructions En Pointe

i must tiptoe around it and never speak of it aloud

this providential mistaken identity which has landed on me

hush my celebrations

- if the powers should notice

someone might change their mind

and return me to my normal programming

i must never disregard it or take it for granted

never stop being grateful in my heart

because of course it can't last forever

i’ll let it glow through me

but dust off the sparkles if anyone looks too closely

any attention may bring unwanted scrutiny

it’s so obviously undeserved

i must revel in it quietly

bathe it in til the bubbles burst

luck this beautiful should be savored

and before someone realizes they gave it to the wrong person

i'll happily relish it - in secret, and on tiptoe

Joshua

Entirely against all probability,
he's sweetness walking.
With everything to lose,
he offers himself freely.

The story of his past
is stacked in loose piles of sticks
spelling out a message that he will be slow to trust
maybe even incapable of forging bonds.

Instead, he presses his small, warm body against me
- an erstwhile stranger -
conforms to the curve of my chest,
breathes his soft doggy sighs close to my heart,
and makes his mark irrevocably there.

I hear them crying
even when no one else hears.
The trees are dying.

~ Chubby, capable ~
~ Artistic, sure, expressive ~
~ My hands are blessings ~

Photovoltaics,
turbines, reclamation cells.
Life support for Earth.

Written FOR My Sweetheart

Late morning kisses
I love her sharp coffee breath
Sweet acidity

Written For Me By My Sweetheart!~

I feel the empty
eight hours without my right arm
My seed lies in wait

Cried for my brother
Spilled latte on my keyboard
Thursday morning blues

Breathe

I want to immortalize my love for you in a poem or a song,
but I'm not sure how.

When I ask myself what you mean to me,
it's like asking what my skin means to me
or my arms or my legs.

It's like asking how I feel about the fact that I'm allowed to breathe in
every few seconds.

I need it desperately. I can't live without it. It allows me to be who I am.
It's beautiful, satisfying, and feels so right.
I'm possessive and I guard it, aware of how I need it.
It's such a part of me that I often take it for granted.
When I remember to be, I'm so incredibly grateful.

So I guess here's your poem.
I love you more than breathing.