On the side of the moon that we never see,
the backside, if you will;
there’s a land of mystery and marvel,
where time has simply stood still.

It’s a place of beauty and wonder,

huddled against morning’s chill
early sun reflecting warmth
from the weathered adobe wall
several Indians stir restlessly
a night of drunkenness behind
indigent nomads awaken

Woodland wonder; pure delight
Rainbow pie, a la mode
Cup never empty of heavenade
A place in step and harmony
As brotherhood flourishes
And peace is not forgotten

A quiet spot, and gentle

Of social malaise are these born
children tethered in the darkness
where not the grass of summer sways
and joyful laughter echoes never more

Youth robbed away in half stride

Swilling from his cup of brew, he sat upon the river’s bank
And forthwith threw his baited hook into the listless current.

The tiny fire he’d built for cheer more than warmth

Sheltered deep in boreal forest,
under boughs of cold, black spruce;
Lair made tight against the blizzard,
branches ‘twined lest they blow loose;

Eyes like gold of buttered honey,

In pristine mantle of dazzling white
Sporting stains of late fall leftovers
Blueberry purple catches the eye

Streaks of berry flavored snow
Violate winter’s lovely robe

thine eyes disprove the sky’s own blue
rivaling even the depth thereof
and filled with stars more so than heaven
i am smitten by hypnotic forces there
and may not turn away or go

take not away thy love, dear girl
thou gavest oh so freely
could I but pay the going rate
and ever hold thy warm, soft hand
i’d gladly spill the coffer dry
lay at your feet the moon itself