Everything’s Eventual

The way the sky cracks open to the beat
of her most unmetered feet. The way her

heart tunes itself to a new moon with each
dawn. The birdsong that builds her heart

a home, fills her throat with the thrum of
grace, the space to breathe. The wilder

-ness of whim and wishing, the swishing
of stars on her tongue and the brave way

they shimmer and simmer there, stung.
The holiest of days, this. Ordinary. Flung.

Written for Poetic Asides

This entry was posted in moon poems, poetic asides poems and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Everything’s Eventual

  1. lifelessons says:

    Love it.. Need to read again but an appointment. now. More later.

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