Warmed by the wild shadows
of moon stalkers I feel fearless
in the cello sonata of an owl
guiding me through the
graveyard of fallen pines.
Surrounded by breathing silhouettes
I am more alive than sitting in the assault
of digital authoritarians who are bloated
with the sound of their own voices.
The past month of three hundred and
sixty-five days has no power in this dream
world where miracles are bookmarked
with green moss and sleepy dandelions.
Dressed in the lacy pattern of stars
I am free to shed the quilt of ominous
that wearies my mind and breathe life
not infected with vocabulary that
has its thumb in a thesaurus of hate.
©Susie Clevenger 2025
Comments
"the cello sonata of an owl
guiding me through the
graveyard of fallen pines." Soul-touching imagery.