Yard Sale of Thoughts

The night is foggy mystery.
A magnifying glass moon
surveys the forest skyline,
inspects the fingerprints
left by branching trees:
black ink on white clouds,
clues to tranquility’s thief.

The flashlight moon
searches the trunks
when a wild wind screams,
but with so much suspicion
who’s line can be believed?
Rustling rumors of new leaves,
the mug shots of tree tops
bare little resemblance to these.

Confusion means the moon
will cast his Klieg light
long into the clouded evening,
interrogate every new shoot
until the evidence is beyond dispute,
all parties of the posse agreed
on whose fate belongs to gravity.

©2023 | K. Hartless

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GloPoWriMo #10: Today, I decided to write to Amarinthine Lover‘s photo prompt. The first year I ever participated in April’s poetry gold rush, I wrote to many of her selected images. She encouraged me to keep writing, and I love to return to her photo prompts at least a few times each year.

Artwork: early morning by babismavro