Night Stroll

Night Stroll

Through the skylights, the moon calls palely down,
Gliding across at its frozen pace, tempting me from my lair.
Like a plume of smoke, emptied of its flame,
I ride the winds down the patio, incognito,  
To the chip-barked path that traverses flowers, foliage, trees;
Heart still crackling with the ash of previous nocturnes
A soft, piceous breeze ruffling my long cotton sleeves.

 Lantern gleaming from across the pond, I wander
Further into Cimmerian shade. Slinking through the dell,
Upon the hill, liaising with firefly and daffodil,
Bargaining with moth and May weather.
Assuring the Azaleas that everything will work out well,
Comforting the Camellias that rain will soon come,
I ramble deep into the garden, with ownmost knell,
Taking a light swig from my flask o' rum.
In the not-too-distance, through the corner of my eye,
I spy a star shaped like a hammer falling to earth,
Above the sickle of a crescent moon.
Can the ways and justice of old sustain us,
 Or will they crumble, come June?
I put my mind to my ear, it is a simple shell; 

I listen rapt to the strange currents that tarry. 

The starry dome, above me like a gigantic blueberry. 

The earth beneath my feet, so wholesome and well.

Humming a rhyme, by the old oak tree.

I throw a dime, in the wishing stream. 

The old farmhouse barn, it never did seem to rust,

But I am rusted now in innermost dream.