Winter Moon


The moon
Making her slow,
high arc
through winter sky
The world turned blue
Lit like a dream

Clouds pass quickly
So quickly
Also like a dream
Painting the moon curtain
in a thousand shades
of silver steel slate
Brushed by the
hand of the wind
Her ten-thousand hands
Laughing as they paint,
breathe, paint…

“I make beauty.
I outlast mountains.
I am free”

Written/recorded in the southern New Mexico desert

Spoken word:

View on instagram or youtube


Share This

Translate »