Lithe figure moving to the breeze
as it rustles through the midnight
trees.
Timeless is she who wakes at
sunset, watching the colours
mix in perfection.
... no picture is the same each night.
Refracted stars in childlike eyes as
she gazes upwars to the sky, reveling
in the newness of the night.
But midnight ...
... the witching hour ...
... perfection.
All is quiet as she treads softly the
crunchy leaves, weaving through
the trees.
... they talk you know ...
It calls to her from a distance, that
shimmering lake as the full moon
dances upon the ripples.
She stretches out along the cool water,
gazing upwards to the twinkling heavens.
Serenity at midnight in this place, where
silence mixes with the coolness.
Questions, unquestioned discoveries, and answers in parable and rhyme…. This collection records a journey starting with a 1960s retrospective and the first man on the moon, moving to a new millennium welcomed in with a terrorist spin, family crises,
First Edition Translation of Teselas by Carmen Crespo X111 César Simón Poetry Prixe 2016 Translated from Spanish by Robin Ouzman Hislop and Amparo Arrospíde
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Happy New Year to the Midnight Magick Lady.