Small bit of moon
suspended in dappled clouds
awaken to the hound
eager growl at what moves in the night.
Arising to the prompt
I am startled into lightness to realize
three nights now
repeat nights awaking with a song in my mind.
not lullaby or classical
but dancing music merrily playing
to the radio of my mind.
I sway in the door frame looking at the moon,
and wonder when next I awake
what will be the selection
to move to.
Does it take a quarter to select
or just a snippet taken from what she said,
the muse of distant lands inspire
through beauty and the dance of time
to the festive notes alive in this mind?
Three nights of melody
perhaps inspiring the mood,
yet I don’t recall a funeral march
on workdays none the less,
just bouncy song that by the time
the lock hits the door and I walk away,
silence takes over like the death of a soul,
let me go back to the warmth of blankets
and the dreams of dance and music,
and the smiles of a muse sent
with the sun at dawn.
Dance to the Music of Time
Danse à la musique du Temps