Chilly Nights


Bare tree branches spider a web,
that holds the moon,
over my northwest Georgia home.

This night,
with steady sounds of a wind chime,
adding dimension,
to a shapeless nebula.

Where clouds maneuver,
below a hundred white pin dots,
on black satin.

Angels in the sky,
looking over me.
Stilled beauty admired,
as endless as the questions,
about this phenomenon,
that feeds me.

And all at once,

A feeling drops to the bottom of my stomach.

Revive those offshore breezes,
at the beach in New Jersey.
Where waves crash.
Race around my feet,

the pull,
the hope.

The seagulls dance in the blush of another day.
My shore, if have be, to overcome any fear or problem.

The feeling leaves.

Slips away,
past the moon,
and beyond.

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