Moon Shine

In sepia they gather.
Love showers around.
Open the doors,
raise the windows,
this is not twilight
but illuminated dark.
If I could speak thunder
I’d talk it into rain.
The light zig-zags
when water falls.

If I had been there
the familiar tragedy
of a dying family
might have spoken
for itself, one at a time.
And I would hear
what words they used
and trace them
on rice paper
with calligraphic pen.

(26 December 2013)

copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander