At dusk, I watch the moon rise
from a tangle of bare branches.
All those daytime emotions
balled up in a flocculent pocket
unravel as I squint my eyes.
Planets are at my fingertips;
I weave them across the sky,
create novel constellations,
a loose knit of past and present.
The future’s still a golden fleece
I have yet to find.
Kim M. Russell, 18th January 2021
My response to earthweal weekly challenge: Entangled Up In You
For this Monday’s challenge, Brendan would like us to explore the art and acts of entanglement in a poem. How does one life entangle another? How do the dead remain entangled with the living? He wants us to become the things we see, reflect on how that seeing changes the world (at least, our views of it), and ask ourselves what existence would mean without that entanglement: how much less light and air and beauty?
Image found on Freepik