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
writing in north norfolk 
🖤
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I liked the idea of seeing past what is right in front of us. Great use of imagination.
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The analogy of looking for a golden fleece is a good one. Perhaps it’s the winter cold, but it seems like an appropriate goal.
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Thanks Jane.
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This seems delightfully hopeful, Kim, and I love the idea of you arranging the stars and planets how you like them! We should all have a go at that.
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😊
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👏 👏 👏
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The moon does tend to inspire thoughts of time journeys. I like the ideas of weaving in the sky. (K)
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Thank you, Kerfe!
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“balled up in a flocculent pocket” is such a musical line, KIm, beautiful poem!
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Cheers Jim!
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Fate is entangled with the tangled life, and the stepping out here means stepping back to see it, or wonder at it. Better vantage but still far from clear. “Flocculent” is such a good word for the inbound, sequestration we endure in these days … Brendan
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I think vantage changes with perspective too.
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Excellent Kim — we could all do with finding our own Golden Fleece! You have woven this into a lively timeless, entanglement.
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Thank you, Francis!
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Beautiful. Those closing lines are stellar!
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Thank you, Sherry!
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Yes, yes. I’m hunting that golden fleece along with you. I love the idea of weaving the stars into a way of making sense of our personal pasts and present.
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We will read stories in the stars until the end of the human race.
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