Do You See This Moon?

A harvest moon hangs in a starry sky

with Jupiter tagging along, like a puppy.

Clear-cut hills, green and still,

fade to blue in twilight, layer upon layer.

Each ripple of the lake catches reminders

of day, laps them up to the shore. 

I gather my reminders of you,

the warm flannel shirt, the whisper

of your breath in my ear and send them back

to the full-faced orb. 

Basalt pillars stand like giants on surrounding

mountains, watching their goodnight,

as I watch from below them.  I stand here wondering,

do you see this moon?  The same moon I see? 

Does it send its ancient smile over the Cascades

through Chinook Pass 

to you?

By A.M. Adams

February

I meant to post this poem in February, but the month got away from me!  Here it is now, not too much after the fact. :)

A poem in response to Carnival Evening, by Henri Rousseau.

February

When two clowns

such as we are

meet under the moon

full in the midst

of bare trees

to expose our souls,

our shoulders,

our teeth

in this naked season,

we see each other

as we were

before this carnival

foliage adorned

our limbs,

and grow calm

in the serenity

of colorless days.

by A. M. Adams

Japanese Garden, Portland Oregon 10.12

Japanese Garden

Suspended on air,

skippers prick the pond’s

surface with four toes. 

Scattered by a shadow,

they glide, first one

then two, and six. 

Under the reflection

of Western Hemlock

and white jet spray,

a school of koi,

orange and fleshy,

follow the leader

amidst the tail flicks. 

Sand rises in agitated tufts

to settle in ridges.

by A. M. Adams

Sunset at the Beach with a Poem

A Winter's Day

Too much gray in a winter

day paints me blue.

My arms swing

full,

my legs drag.

Too much gray means

faint light, rare
occasions to walk
the beach, less time
to watch the gulls.

Too much gray fogs my brain,
but it clears of an evening
as the sun sets,

to calm

and restore
me with this Zen
moment, this pull

between white and black

between yin and yang.

by A. M. Adams