As the moon slowly rises
light bathes the sea silver
rides the waves to the shore,
across sand and grass.

Tonight, the dark does not
hold sway. Shadows
retreat before
moonlight, sea light,
star light—reaches
through glass doors
staining carpet, bed, pillows.

Moon breath,
upon my lips,
silvered words, slip
along the tongue,
crystal filaments,
invading dreams,
tossed like waves
and ocean light.

I wake to moon patterns,
shifting, fading
upon the wall,
hear the jingle of harness
above the wave line.
Rising, I open the doors,
step, into moon song,
fey-light piercing me.

A mist hangs
above the ocean,
casts its haunting
across the bay,
altering, now
a dream-shift,
membranes dissolving
light between worlds.

From the shadow of the cliffs,
I hear hooves striking rock,
the sound rising,
over close-cropped trees.
Dark pines stretch baleen fingers
to catch moon-song,
sift words from the light,
song of the Sidhe.

Clear the hunter’s call,
the wild horn sounding
from Tír na nÓg
between the mist
and black night
where ice-white stars
scatter a netted path,
blink like ice-bright eyes.

A breeze carries voices
clear as light, and
Manannán’s horses
toss their manes.
I shiver as cold eddies
brush my skin,
trail a salt tang, and
the sweet green scent
of ripening apples.

The ghostly company rides,
rides, rides, shadowed-night
rippling across the silver lawn.
Closer, closer, the hooves
thunder, beating like blood.
Mouth dry, I seek
the sanctuary of my room,
gossamer silk brushes my ankles,
while above me the stars blur.

On the balcony,
in the light before dawn,
a white stone sparkles amongst
fading petals.

 

First published in 2017 Painted Words