Horses At Full Moon

My mind roves

Playing through my consciousness

Like wind through the trees

Sometimes it stops and writes poetry on pine needles

Which fall to earth in turn

Composting into the floor

My mind dances as nervously as paddocked stallions

When the wind gusts warnings of spindizzy

So I am spooked as they are

At dustdevil dervishes that seem to say

Something unhinged approaches

Instead I consider the burgeoning moon

Something full for a change

No emptiness that screams want

Something that hasn’t been starved into submission

A regularity that pulls me into balance

Illuminating darkness with silver radiance

Something to settle my mind on



David Trudel     ©  2013




Filed under Poetry

6 responses to “Horses At Full Moon

  1. Beautiful! I love the imagery in this poem. Amazing work 🙂

  2. I could read this over and over again.

  3. Poetry on pine needles. Ah, so beautiful, and so temporary, as it all really is.

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