Oh moon.
Delicate face still aglow with the pale fire light of sunsets last kiss.
You wait in fragile poise and look down on man's restful night.
Lonely vigil in a cold sky. Every child's dream and every question why
Held in your clear wondering gaze.
Unseen through today's turquoise skys but in the dark void of space you hang in stony guise
Awaiting the sun's embrace which only our earth witholds.
May we never reach you
Mysterious moon mother
Watcher
Wonderer
Tide changer.
I stand at the top of my garden. A patch of golden straw at my feet and the spade in my hand.
I feel the familiar worn wood of the handle and smile for a moment.
This is my garden. I know it well. Every nook and cranny.
And it knows me well too. Every pathway and tussock has felt my footstep.
Every border lovingly tended.
The sound of the stream and many moments spent in relaxation and sunlit meditation.
Many hours spent in toil and satisfying sweat. Crafting the landscape.
So this is my garden. I'm enjoying the view.
I stand at the top on this golden patch of straw.
The garden I know so well . The colours the smell .
I don't know what lies ahead, when it's time to leave . I don't know that there will be another garden like this one.
But there will be a place where I will leave my mark just like before and I know that I have the tools and more importantly the faith to do the job.
Joe Morriss
October 2017
A fleeting glance
Caught in the mirror. Movement stilled and a faint glimmer
Of light. Deep in the night
I trace the lines which spell no name
Describe no place but all we ever were
Is there in technicolour detail
I didn't forget
One
Single
Thought
Deep in the night hours
A gentle breath sustains me
All that restrains is left loose and scattered
Everyday tasks await the dawn and for now
All is calm
All that we had was ours
I never can deny the face in the mirror
Eyes that must be looked at
A mouth which must speak
A path through the desert
A myth of recollection
I trace those lines again
To be sure nothing was missed
They tell the same story
Over and again
Do you think along the same lines?
Do you ever tell yourself the story of your life
In the night?
Do you call out for company
Do you long for a wild path midst desert and ocean
Fall into a trance
Glance in the mirror
Trace the lines behind the glimmer
Of light
Deep in the night
Arabian night.
