Moon Over Flagstaff, Arizona.
Moon
Spinning the compass,
Drawn to the North Star,
The presence of the new Moon I felt
In the midnight sky.
Turned my face left and right,
Swept my eyes across the world’s arc,
But see her I could not.
Reached out my hands,
Parted the pin-prick veil,
Yet touch her I could not.
Listened then I did,
With all my might.
Heard Moon humming,
A graying blackbird’s hymn.
“Moon,” said I, “why are you hiding?”
“Not to be seen,” said Moon.
“But you are Moon!” said I.
“Not Sun,” said Moon.
“Glad I am you are not Sun!
Long have I labored
Under Sun’s withering gaze,
Walked through umber forests and
Cracked-bone fields,
Stepped down stony streams and
Trails of hard-packed clay,
Dodged fiery whip-tongues and
Charcoal dust-moths that rise.
“Weary I am of Sun’s burn and blind,
Yellow bright, and furnace bake,
Of sand in mouth, and salt on brow.
“Ached I have for your gentle birch-bark light,
Beauty of shadow on shadow and shift,
Diamond water-birds shining,
On wintry nights.”
Smile did Moon,
Slightest sliver of silver did reveal.
“Flattery,” said Moon.
“Truth,” said I.
“Argue, I will not,” said Moon.
“Argue, you cannot,” said I.
Laugh did Moon,
From quarter to half.
“Tell me traveler,
With words so bold,
What you have learned
In the cross and the hatch,
About the new world, and the old?”
So speak I did, and at length,
Of sail and wheel,
Gravel crunch and steel rail.
Of east and farther east,
Up and round, across and forth.
Of blood and batter,
Kingdoms and cups.
Of plowshares and waves of wheat,
Twirling pinwheels and ribbon-flow.
Of first breath and last exhale,
Love and lost.
Of fog and runes,
A bearded albino trout,
Swimming at night in an ebony lake.
Listen did Moon,
Full did shine.
“Much, you have seen,” said Moon.
“More, have you,” said I.
“Wise, I am not,” said Moon.
“Argue, I will not,” said I.
“Argue, you cannot,” said Moon.
Love then did I feel,
For Moon in her night.
Broke my heart, she did.
But also healed.
“Tell me Moon,
Humble and shy,
What have you seen,
From high in Heaven’s vault,
In foundling Earth, and this evening air?”
Sing then did Moon,
Strong and clear,
In rotating verse,
And roundelay rhyme.
Of endless onyx and inky black,
Faraway sparkle and ember shimmer.
Of seas under seas and dusky mist,
Hard-broken rock and soft-rolling land.
Of high-mountain thrust and valley’s scratch,
Iron’s forge and ruby’s press.
Of mother oak and father pine,
Of triumphs and sorrows unsung,
The primeval Bear,
Dreaming of death in an underground cave.
Sad was Moon,
Fell full to half.
“Stay,” said I.
“Cannot,” said Moon.
Frown did Moon,
Only slightest sliver of silver did reveal.
“Please,” said I.
“Cannot,” said Moon.
“Argue, I cannot,” said I.
“Travelers we are,” said Moon.
Weep did Moon,
Gone she seemed.
But better I knew.
“Moon,” said I.
“Traveler?” said Moon.
“Traveler no more,” said I.
“A chair I will build,
Of granite and moss,
On an icy cinder cone,
Above the ocean’s deep,
To sit and wait for your return.”
“Love?” said Moon.
“Love,” said I.
“Love,” said Moon.
Rest then I did,
On my somber throne.
Listened with all my might.
Heard Moon humming,
A graying blackbird’s song.
– MikeWJ,
2011
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Please visit the other participants in the 30 Days of Photographs II challenge:
Ziva
Nicky and Mike
Mo
Meleah
John, aka nonamedufus
Bryan, aka Unfinished Person
Mariann
Malisa
Nora
Laughing Mom
Tanya
Elizabeth A.
00dozo
Kristen
Cheryl
Katherine
It’s not enough that you take great pictures but now you write poetry too? Shit, Mike, you’re such a renaissance man.
I’m more of an ass man than a Renaissance man, but thank you, NoName.
That was a joke, by the way. First thing that came to mind.
The moon sounds a lot like Yoda. That’s a beautiful shot, Michael.
Bitch.
Thank you.
Mikey, the poem is simply incredible. Do these words just flow out of your brain with no effort? That is pure muse. Did you have to work on the poem for long? I had no idea you are such an incredible poet. I seriously did not know this. It must be the distance we live from each other. We are like twins, except you are the most talented twin and because of this, I must write you out of my pending vast estate.
Yes, they just flow out me. Constantly, 24/7. It’s amazing, really, and I probably ought to write more of them down.
As for your vast estate…well, uh-huh.
I had to sit quietly and breathe when I got to the end and saw that this poem was written in freakin’ 2011! FOUL!
Okay, okay, I’m settled down now and will go back to my original thoughts.
This is a beautiful, lilting piece that goes perfectly with your most delicious shot of the moon.
But I took the photo within the allotted time frame! The poem was a bonus.
I’m not gonna be snarky today because your poem calmed me down considerably. Beautiful shot of the moon. Very tranquil.
You’re not going to be snarky? Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?
Remembered my happyhappyjoyjoy pills this morning. Wheee!
Better living through chemistry.
It’s prom night, everybody gather round the pill jar!
Prom night, and you have a daughter? Dear God, Prozac and whiskey for everybody, barkeep!
Just beautiful. That poem is even better than the lovely image of the moon. Fine stuff!
Thank you, Linda. Did you have to use a magnifying glass to read it? I’m concerned about how hard it is to read the grey on black. On my screen, it’s fine. But I guess that’s not the case for everybody, including you.
My mom has the same trouble. My monitor is fine where the black/white/grey blogs are concerned but she can’t read them as well on hers – it must depend on the quality of the monitor itself. So I showed her how to highlight the body of texts (by clicking and dragging the mouse) to circumvent the problem. It’s been working fine so far as she really enjoys the reading blogs that I follow.
I guess I could make the writing white instead of gray. But I like it gray. I like gray, for that matter. Black and grey are my favorite colors.
I loved this poem the first time you posted it on your blog, and I love it even more now. The photo is breathtaking and goes perfectly with the poem, the moon is distant, waning, yet still shining bright, ever changing. And you captured it perfectly in this love poem to the moon.
Thank you for remembering the poem, Ziva. I don’t write much poetry, hardly any, but I was inspired to write this piece, and even after not looking at it for quite some time, I still like it — something I can’t say about a lot of what I write. It captures my feelings for the moon, which is both ever-changing and enduring.
I’ve never seen a moon against such a beautiful sky. Gorgeous, Mike. Seriously.
Why were you in Arizona? I’ve always wanted to go.
It was very unusual, Liz, even here in the Southwest. It was late in the day, but the moon was just rising. I hiked into the woods — and I hate hiking — to take the picture. I’d hoped the moon would be larger becauuse in my own mind, it is. But this is what it looked like, and I’m happy.
I was in Arizona on business, attending a workshop related to the management of the Glen Canyon Dam and how that affects the Grand Canyon. I like it there, but not in the summer, when it’s miserable hot.
Mike I’ve come to believe that you’ve got a blue-sky-rendering ImageMagik script running on the server. Still, I love how this is the composed, the moon is hanging perfectly between the trees.
We just get a lot of cloudless, blue sky in these parts. A lot of dust and heat, too.
I was also happy with how the moon hung perfectly between the trees. You can’t even see the wires.
What a crisp, clear, blue sky! That is just friggin’ gorgeous! I’ve having trouble taking my eyes off of this photo. They want to linger on the moon looking at details and wondering about the mystery of this celestrial orb. Then my eyes move to the shadows of the pines and dart back and forth comparing the colors in the pines. Are those pinon pines? Ahhhh, the wonderful scent of pinon. Your photo makes me want to be there, Mike. It makes me long for dessert mountains. It makes me wonder how many deer were looking at the same moon at the same time you were taking your photo. Isn’t that what a really good photo does? Makes you imagine that you are there? Makes all your senses come alive?
If I haven’t bragged enough about this photo, don’t get me started on the poem. What an added bonus. It’s beautiful and so telling. Allowing others to read your poetry is dangerous though. If you don’t be careful, people might start thinking that you are not a curmudgeon after all. I am impressed, MWJ. I am impressed.
I’m blushing, Malisa.
It is a beautiful place, though, and I enjoyed my visit a lot.
And I am a curmudgeon. I wrote the poem before I became one.
Can’t kid a kidder. Curmudgeon you are not.
I’ve having trouble and I’m also having trouble editing today. Shit.
Even for a re-post, your poem is perfect for today’s theme. I loved it then as I still love it now.
Your photo is, indeed, a phenomenal catch – very crisp and clear and perfect in size. I recall seeing the daylight moon earlier this month and thought about today’s prompt. I then promptly forgot to get pictures. Go figure.
This kind of reminds me of the ‘night of the eclipse’ and how bizarre that was for me (but maybe not so much for you). Good times.
I got lucky. I was on a trip, saw the moon and had some time to take a photo.
And thanks for the kind words about the poem. It probably doesn’t make total sense, even to me, but I really like it because I love the moon so much and wanted to explain why.
I *LOVE* daytime moon, so much more than the nighttime moon.
I can’t help but ask this question: Is that also how you feel about sex?
I am astounded!
By what, for God’s sake?
Holy Sheesh Mike! First – the photo is awesome. The composition. The lighting. It is just the most beautiful photo. Seriously. And the poem?
Really?? You write poetry? (Secret? Sometimes I do too – but mine sucks… not like this) This is amazing. I kept wondering if I would recognize the poem as I was reading it and as I got to the bottom it started to dawn on me that – Damn – I bet Mike wrote that! Anyway – awesome…
Yes, I write poetry and other stuff, too. I’m not always shallow. Only like maybe 95 percent of the time.
Send me a poem, why don’t you? I’d love to read one.
Damn you Arizona and your photogenic skies.
It’s a nice enough place, but it needs to take off its rainbow shades.
I love this photo. I live in GA and I pine trees are in my blood. We spent the last week in Kentucky and Ohio. No pines. Brian and I both missed them. Once we got to SC it started to feel like home again.
Funny thing: I miss leafy trees. We have them here, but they’re only a few tall, and look dehydrated.