The full moon shines a white path down my street this morning. What is there about moonlight that makes a familiar world appear mysterious? The lunar night-light is certainly the subject of many songs, poems, and stories, and inspired the title of my current mystery, the one I’m working on, called Moonlight Can Be Murder.
Each morning when I look through my window on the world, the scene is never the same as the morning before. For one thing, fall is here, and the leaves are starting to let go and drift down. I’ve seen a few maples around town whose leaves are turning from green to orange. And, for the poet in me, autumn is a time of inspiration. I should have posted the poem about fog yesterday but I was deep into the perils of Darcy and Flora and an earthquake. So, the poetry comes today, inspired by that bright, white moon. Needless to say, the author retains all rights. That would be me.
Misty Morning
Silent, silver strands of fog
Whirl and swirl and quiver
Making misty meadowlands
Into a wispy river.
Spider webs, like shiny ships,
Sail the dripping grasses,
While spider sailors ride the waves
Until the dampness passes.
–Blanche Day Manos
Preparation
Shy and busy meadow mouse,
Scamper to your tunnel house.
Something in the wind says, “scurry”,
Seasons change, it’s time to hurry.
Days grow short and nights grow cold;
Eat as much as you can hold.
Tunnel down and burrow deep;
Pass the winter wrapped in sleep.
–Blanche Day Manos
A Busy World
The grass blows quietly in the breeze,
But under it all, where nobody sees,
A small, crawly world
Is creeping.
Busy, black beetles bustle along,
A cricket is creaking a gravelly song,
While a lazy brown bug
Lies sleeping.
The spider spins softly, a katydid sings,
A small caterpillar is dreaming of wings,
And the colors he’ll soon
Be showing.
Creatures that crawl and scuttle and scurry
Some who go slowly, and others who hurry
Have purposes, patterns, and ways
Worth knowing.
–Blanche Day Manos
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