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by Charles Carreon
Limpid moon shining
over shaggy trees swaying,
barely, in the night breeze.
This is the world,
the one I long to pierce,
exploring the silvery forms,
the illusive gleam between
the seen and the perceived.
With the fox and the bat,
my eyes devour with gentle passion
the gossamer images that abundantly appear
in ever subtler subtlety,
the shadows of the trees,
the fingers of the leaves,
the tracery of branches
the wisping curls of cloud.
All night, dark and light,
changing places,
Dancing liquid starlight poured upon
the flesh of the eye.
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