A Blood Moon Night
Written by Adam M. Snow

Tonight I watched in awe,
the moon once pure and white.
Obeying the nighttime law;
lighting the sky so bright.
The stars, the moon in sync,
dancing their worries away.
The end can happen in a blink;
a sudden halt would not sway.
Darker the night grew -
and darker the moon dost shine.
I stood there in awe, in view,
- a bloodish sublime.
The proud moon once danced so free,
now cowering behind a blood red veil.
I stood there in awe to see,
the world halt with a quail.
The moon eclipsed in a taint of dark red;
I stood there in awe in yonder.
"Is not the moon dead?
What of this?" I ponder.
Hours pass feeling like eternity,
watching the blood moon night pass.
Returning the world back to modernity,
knowing this isn't the last.
The moon is pure and white once more.
Don't succumb to joy just yet.
Again it'll happen, I swore -
three more nights, a blood moon to fret.

Speckling drops, of bathwater- lovely evening rain.
Patter melodically against
my open window frame.
The  water touches me not,
for my roof with gutters and onings.
But the dewy breeze saturates my room
like my face to an ocean breeze.
Mother Waters, send her daughters
to my window this spring night singing.
Distant puddle patterning ploops,
diameters mass expanses on the suburban streets.
The trees, the smile as they absorb the
moisture their brittle bones need.
Oh how I pitied the trees,
when the cold stripped and broke their branches
my heart grew sorrowful & weak.
The deserve to be enveloped, by this
unplanned storm.
All in the world, would agree when I say
that we are blessed
with this warm April rain

april cut into the city
in long fingernail scratches
of running water and suddenly brown gardens
and the air fell heavy onto the eaves
of houses eager to open their doors

i stepped out and spoke
into a space filled with spring
just trying to hurry things along, i guess
trying to warm the air
trying to clear the path
trying to make some sense of this transition

i stepped out, leaned forward
and spoke
too soon, i guess
because the mercury sank coldly back into the glass
and the rain became needles, the trees thread
threatening to sew winter back into the sky
and the air retreated back
into a dull winter chill
as if afraid of my open chest
displaying december's frostbite
and january's cold words

and i apologized silently
to the city and myself
for thinking winter could be defeated so easily

you make me want to puke
i used to think you were a duke
now i know that you are ******
you are just a big fat poopie
you smell just like my dog
and you're only attractive through fog
and from far away
but dang that ugly face
what did i ever see in you
you're a stinky pile of poo
I thought you gave me butterflies, but it was just that taco bell I had for lunch.

Damp, dead.
Springing to life under muddy soil,
The flowers will be here soon.

Skeletal branches claw the milky blue-purple sky,
Green mist beginning to coat their splitting fingers.

Biting cold and wisping wind,
The smell of wet earth and greening grass
More welcome than a smoking, fiery hearth.

Spring is coming, spring at last;
I had almost forgotten the taste of rain in the air.

Stone beneath my fingers, rough and smooth,
A rock in a field to rest against with a beautiful view.

The wind whispers the calling of birds
And the echoing cries of their mates,
The aviation coming north for a long stay.

My hair is whipped by the wind,
And flies from my face;
Fly away far,
Find your own flowing, rippling, grace.

Ice is cracking and rivers rushing,
Freed from their frozen imprisonment;
Fish are swimming and fishermen soon to be rowing
Across still waters clear and cold.

April has come to Michigan once more,
Breaking dawn in morning's cool air.
April returned to drive back the snow,
And Spring Break rides on its dove grey wings.

i'd rather you tell me
those sickly sweet three words
as an april fools joke
than never hear them at all
and i think
that makes me pathetic and weak
but god,
i've never loved anyone
as much as i love you