Yard Sale of Thoughts

In a clam shell of clouds,
the pearl moon is seen for the first time
above bowing waves and palmetto fronds;
it’s regal place well-claimed.

The lighthouse, but a freckle on the
the night sky’s darkening face.
And like the distant stars,
their twinkles are but beacons
heralding another day and age.

Hillside, resting in a cocoon of covers,
I hear the processional and upward gaze
to discover that rare beauty
only spoken of by medium and sage.

Leaning on windowsill,
my emotions fragile,
I find the courage to proclaim,
“I am the miracle,”
casting my net wide enough
to catch the dreams
that have yet to come full circle.

©2023 | K.F. Hartless

Artwork: Christian Riese Lassen

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