I wonder—
do the trees feel empty in winter,
like abandoned cathedrals with hollowed arches,
their prayers carried off by wind?
Do they mourn the once-gold choir of leaves,
or do they wait—
hands lifted in quiet faith,
hope braided into their roots
like a forgotten hymn?

Does the moon know she is not always whole?
That we love her in pieces—
when she is a shard of silver,
a lost earring in the sky.
Does she ache, too,
a lantern adrift in a sea of indifference,
admired but never held?

There is beauty, I think,
in what is missing—
in the pause before bloom,
in the ache of becoming.
The tree, the moon—
they teach us how to stay
even when we are not full.

Maybe they know.
Maybe they don’t.
But still—they remain.
And maybe that is enough.

There’s a family of bullfrogs nearby
Their cries rise and volley
Shimmering in mezzo-soprano melancholy
A torch song to the new moon,
Pleading her silver bloom
return to the black spring sky.

I will weave a web in the rain
Drops like pearls in the moonlight
Threaded green bag over my head
Fill it with water
Watch it expand until it bursts
Head like a thistle
Swaying
Catcalled by the wind
Soaked sleeves
Wallowing with the wisps
Inhale and hold

you made me hate tickles
hated how you'd slid your fingers onto me and touch
and all I ever could do was laugh
hated how no-one noticed
how I was gasping for air
kicking you back hoping you'd stop

but no you continued
and you tickled me some more

my liver began to crumble
I wanted to scream " pls don't do it "
but there was no room for my words
none noticed the screams
they assumed it was just laughter

its not the tickles i hate
just  the fact that now when someone touches
I flinch every time
just the fact how hugs are enlisted as
injustice crimes in my mind

no, its not the tickles I hate
just the mnemonic memory that plays in my  brain
just the fact whenever its dark I somehow see your face
just that you robbed all of my innocence
with none of my consent

Come bring the bad news.
And tell me all the ways.
You've been feeling blue.

Rest your head upon.
My shoulders.

As we gaze up at the moon.
The night is dark but there's,
Still light to be seen.

You've got a lot of living.
Left to do.

Can't leave your life.
Up to fate.

Hoping you can change.
The chances of the game.

Your life is in your hands,
My dear.

Like the dark it can play,
At being a trickster too.

For a little while you can.
Rest your worries here.

Underneath the stars so bright.
Till the morning light comes through.

Only then when it appears.
I hope you don't feel blue.

If somehow you do.
I've got enough warmth.
For two.

Oh the stars and moonlight
The stunning shine
But that shine is not enough to get you out of my mind
Morning walks
While we just talk
Nights on the grass
While we wish for time to not pass
Stuck in our own world
Were it's just us
The sun rises
And I too arise
Look to my right
And you are not in my sight
For you, my darling
Only live in my dreams

My eyes alight softly on pale velvet waxing,
Grace as weightless as a tilting feather,
Orbiting gently between tender arches,
Caressing the space that binds two hearts
And minds locked in a tidal waltz.

Waning, my gaze traces supple curves,
Outlining a crescent body
That reflects love’s radiant glow.
My pulse quickens, scarring the surface
With each rotation birthing a new phase.
Yet my sights return to distant beauty,
Teasing my soul to reach and embrace my muse,
Yielding to gravity’s ceaseless pull
Until we collide in a fervent embrace,
Two bodies merging in love’s ardent flame,
One forever bound to Earth’s eternal core.

Maple moon
Her Exquisite Beauty kisses
The raw earth
And Vineyard sky of Our love
The clouds are no longer
Mere clouds
They are Gypsy ballerinas
That waltz
With Jazz Nightingales wings
Lost in the Moonlight
Their Mermaid depths
As the Rain Sweetly sings

Reynaldo Casison