Peace at Any Hour

Never took the time
to go out at night,
to look at the stars,
the shooting stars,
to listen to nature’s song
of the birds, the bugs, the coyotes.
Was told that bad things
happen at those hours
but it seems that bad things
happen at all hours.
Why not find beauty
in the late and early hour
if it can be found
in the waking ones too?


Mooning Around the Sun

here comes the sun

to hide from again

with tattered umbrellas

and lukewarm lemonade

in either hand,

and when the night

should happen to fall

then let us drink deeply

from the moon shine

that flows down

to us,


that at long last

we avoided that beaming star









I almost named this poem “Vitamin D(umbass)” but figured the satire was already too on the nose. Anyway, here’s a similarly themed poem from Instagram:


After All This Time

The lowest-flying dreams

bounce back off the atmosphere

into the vastness of space,

on course for collision

with everything in the universe.

I try to live in the moment

absent of such fanciful dreams

but I can’t help but smile

when I hold you close–

there’s stardust

in your touch.


A Bit of Light

I marvel at the first words

ever spoken, words that brought

existence to the the nonexistent:

“Let there be light.”

Yet we all saw fit to hide

eventually, eventually embracing

the absence of light,

content to watch shadows

on cave walls

rather than acknowledge

the sun.

That great and stalwart star

shines down with unequalled radiance

while this little rock we’re on

plays favorites.

We, the heliocentric, still espouse

the sunrise and the sunset.

Countless stars just like it

or greater

stand their ground

but even then we pick and choose

the ones we like best,

the ones that still seem

small in the illuminated darkness.

We may not number the stars

but if one goes missing,

it’s still missing.

The moon need not worry when there’s

nothing to reflect–

like a sky full of emptiness

that’s devoid of a star or two–

yet the moon does.

It circles this circling rock,

dimmer and every bit as stalwart

as the stars.

The pitch dark, the black holes–

they absorb the sounds

of bitter weeping

with vague pretenses of false security.

I stand in awe, blinded by a flickering flame.

What is there to say of

one little bit of light

like that? Like the sun? Like the stars?

Like the moon? Like a mere flicker of flame?

No matter how faded or far,














There is a poem called “Light”, written by Joy at the Yellow Brick Ave. You should read it! This waning piece of poetry was inspired by that waxing one, and though I would not call this a “response” poem, I would say that even a little light helps when everything is dark.

So let your light shine.

Go check out the Yellow Brick Ave and the excellent work posted there.


Will You Miss the Stars?

Can you see the light

of a million stars

at once or at all?

Can you name the constellations

and each seemingly small

orb that makes them up?

Can you walk upon

the surface of one

and not fill your shoes

with dust or fire?

Can you put one

in your pocket

for a rainy day?

Can you take a moment

to breathe

or will you miss the stars

by seeing them as

only stars?