Luna Moth Fever

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Last poem to the present and pertinent heart … for with only a week to live …  I’ve luna moth fever with you on my mind…

the plum bracket of my silvery span wrapped around seven degrees above wondering …. that which I am too humble to inquire …

Do I keep you up at night as you do this frail flight? … Can the fruit of my sweet gum branch perfuming your daydreams so … that when night falls with an elixir the moon dew dropped as your remedy …

You might hear through magic means my call … were your words ever spoken with my pale wings upon your tongue ?

© 2016 cdd All Rights Reserved Aug. 7, 2015
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NaPoWriMo 2016 #26

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 the world did it’s level best …

to drive a wedge between us …

it was all in vain …

for my favorite pastime has always been …

listening to your heart beating in my ear …

this is where all my dreams originate …

© 2016 cdd All Rights Reserved

#NaPoWriMo 26 For Whom is the Honey Made?

Why does the bee labour so?

Why do the blossoms come?

Why has the honeycomb stood?

So long in this trusted wood?

For whom is the honey made?

For man, for beast, for micro mind?

For metamorphic clocks of time?

Why have we come to drink our own?

And murder so the host that binds?

For whom is the honey made?

Ask yourself, while there is still time.

#NaPoWriMo 26
© 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved

#NaPoWriMo 25

The virgining leaves tremble in the morning’s essential breeze … Dawn awakens to chase the chill of Night and warm the liquid light bodies of snail and tree frog … the slip and candid fasten frail tendrils of all blossoming vines open their awareness … unfurling the paper white fragility of their dance petal symphony … nodding head mosses stretch through the drench of dew bonnets upon their  sleepy heads … as the iridescence of their quartz footings kiss the Master good morning … “It is in your light, I find my freedom” they whisper softly … bluebells opening their life giving sweet songs written in the law of true unconditional love … this mystery turns in the gathering morn … we human have long forgotten … soon, the morel stands witness …

 #NaPoWriMo 25

  © 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved

#NaPoWriMo 12

The dit diddy datts of night’s cool rains have only just begun to create their jazzy improvisations … in sky lights streaking shaft hot tongues towards iron and copper Earth golems … afternoon was blessed warm and the Sun met the lake with joyous play … it was the eagles’ first sighting of Floating Fox since the thaw of last winter’s crystal coma … his strength was apparent in both his ability to churn up the muddy bank and in the vibrancy of his colors … he is now larger than any channel cat which dares swim in his school … he is the master of these waters now … they follow where he flows in reverence, not obedience … the black of his koi legacy is far deeper ink than any of their native Mississippi ghost grey skins … he is golden and marigold~orange with fire … and to them, he must be surely be, the samurai fish come from legends told from the boat himself …  Blue Ictalurus of the Small Waters … he had witnessed such koi in the ancient spring pond … from here his  father’s fathers came… the old waters above the new born lake in which they all swam together now … it was foretold one day an eagle would succeed in stealing Floating Fox from his spawn and spread …  to this day not one mighty enough had come to bear a white head so fierce they could pierce the dragon scales of this other worldly warrior … nor were they a match for him in mid air combat when the sharp talons of his whiskers stung them venomously … and the beating of his mighty tail fins sent them into a downward spiraling  retreat …

 #NaPoWriMo 12
 © 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved

#NaPoWriMo 11

The Turkey Vultures have ceased their claiming of the two dead oaks at the head of the spillway above the bog … it is decisive now that the woodpeckers can have them by day … the vultures will have dark dominion over them … rain from the fields above becomes mouthfuls rushing lust to reach more if it’s self … joining into one as the growing swell and then hover inside ceasing stillness … the heat of Summer’s panting evaporates their clamor clinging to the thickness … sludge dangles in pod lure moss wads … once more to find their origins and revival tent freedoms in the rain … On duty, the two gold sheen hunch back hand maidens, left as guardians … welcomed my sight and occurrence as I rounded the bend to cross over to the far bank … at the least fifty more will join them by night fall … for the nearby barn has become too small to hold their committee and flourish … for the moment, the pair maintains their hold spying me rounding the bend below them … the pearl white of their beaks staunch against how brilliant a rose red  their wrinkled faces are in the falling light … as I thank them for their blessings, their presence being most auspicious, the song of the frogs nearby halts to a sudden silence with my words … It is comforting to know the wood is awakened again … preparing for the revels in a few short nights … Phoebe will soon again be swelling near to full breech of birthing brightness … all will be well … to know in the briefest of days our sweet children in snail and skink will be wrestling in the morning leaves … hunting tender hosta shoots, moss and morsel, blossom and bulb …

 #NaPoWriMo 11

© 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved

The Volt #NaPoWriMo 6

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With shy warmth hidden in the splinters Dawn yawns to a waking thought … the volt spawn circlet their first flight from slumber post and pillar … wings wearing dew Night surrenders in his passing … that she shall ever know he is her only desire … soaked burden bound to roof or crag they cling … they are gullet thrust worshipers of the ancients’ golden orb … antecedent bound by blood and wake … here they wait in silent dance and conversations for her arrival … unfurling their silver brown fans faint for breeze and blessing … as she rises once more above the plains to burn off the foggy morn … less with the bright nub of her candle stick … than with the glow her smile reminds existence … when she laps his dewy gifts once more … and the children rejoice … beating bright winds beneath their wings … until they soar golden in her giving light.

 #NaPoWriMo 6
  © 2015 Carla Dawn Dunlap All Right Reserved
 http://www.loudounwildlife.org/HHTurkeyVulture.htm