moonlit winter trees
bare branches paint gray shadows
ghostly risen roots
—Terri Guillemets
moonlit winter trees
bare branches paint gray shadows
ghostly risen roots
—Terri Guillemets
The moon shines
into the dirty desert air
with a rusty opal halo —
Scorpius has lost his way
behind the thin clouds,
city glare, smoke, dust —
His heart shines in some far
better place — but not here
in this smoggy summer.
—Terri Guillemets
Our bodies are meant
for the sun, the rain
the gusty winds
starlight and moon baths
fresh air and seasons —
so why do we trap ourselves
in indoor cages?
If we can’t hear birds sing
or feel invigorating breezes —
how are we to be refreshed
to heal, to know the world
beyond the borders
of our bodies?
—Terri Guillemets
Moonlight is a beautiful and comforting reminder that the sun is still out there somewhere.
—Terri Guillemets
The glow of the moon is poetry
The blossoming of flowers is poetry
The blossoming of woman is poetry
The glow of woman is poetry —
and even more so, because
the light comes from within.
—Terri Guillemets
the moon and plum tree
make flow’ry springtime shadows—
lovers of the night
—Terri Guillemets