“Cry the moon”, I heard her say,
to me this blighted, desolate day,
when time is short and life is old,
when hearts and feelings all run cold.

“Cry the moon”, I heard him say,
our world still stands in disarray.
Who’ll carry you ‘till morning light
and keep you safe throughout the night?

“Cry the moon”, the nations cried,
as thousands more laid down to die,
amidst the bombs and choking tears,
of hate that lasts throughout the years.

“Cry the moon”, the children cried,
and raised their palms to heaven wide,
they pled with God in skies above
to fill our world instead with love.

“Cry the moon”, the heavens played,
a hopeful hymn for those afraid.
When nightly news reports the cries,
and moonshine sweeps across the skies.

“Cry the moon”, the whole world cried,
despite the many who have died.
For we are still one family,
of multicolored ancestry.

So cry the world so all may hear
the plea to make hate disappear,
and make this Earth a better place
where all its people will be safe.

In winter when monsters grow;
when cold and desolation rule,
muddied snow and gray skies
feed the shadows in my mind.

Crawling out of the darkness,
goblins weigh on my heart,
like the parasite they are,
******* the joy from life.

In winter, when monsters grow,
when frost imprisons me,
choking the light from the world,
and feeding the misery within.

Depression, the monster of winter,
crawls into the confines of my being,
and fills me with sadness,
in this cold northern climate.

So honest is a puppy’s love,
kisses so tender and sweet,
a love that has no agenda,
except to be loved.

You burst with excitement,
when I come to call,
greeting me with your dance,
and springing into my arms.

As you curl up on my lap,
you sigh and look up briefly,
before snuggling in,
to dream your puppy dreams.

As I’ve raced through life,
amidst the jungle of our world,
I’ve found a peaceful corner
to listen for your whisper.

I see you in the canopy of leaves
and grasses that wave in the wind;
in the depth of azure seas,
and the reawakened spring creek.

The world of life hums along,
with afternoon shadows sharing in your design.
Nature quietly sings your song,
inviting me to join along.

By a crackling fire, they stood,
whispering promises,
in a cream-white dress and lace,
a bouquet of flowers nearby.

Gazing into the other’s eyes,
they recited their love troths,
and began their adventure,
with a simple “I do".

Along this springtime path I tread,
as Earth awakens from its slumber.
Buttercups glint in the sun’s first light,
while dew rolls off their waxy gold.

Spring-beauty line my morning walk,
along with orchid splendor of violets.
Jack in the pulpit collects its chaliced dew,
beside shooting stars fallen to the ground.

Horsetail reeds, segmented and green,
in tawny conical hats,
and trilliums with triads of snow-white petals,
encircling golden throats.

Smells of earth and green unite,
in silence of the woods deep.
Streams filled with new life held in their *****,
awaiting birth in the warmth of spring.

The first snow of winter, a most magical time,
when soft, gentle flakes float down from the sky.
They cover the sidewalks with light fluffy snow,
and light on one’s lashes and tickle one’s nose.

When Jack Frost bids eager young children to play,
in the season’s first snowfall, there can be no delay.
For the snowmen are calling, and sleds line the hills,
entreating the little ones, come get your fill.

The air becomes silent, in whiteness surrounds,
while a blanket of frostiness covers the ground.
And sun gleams on snowflakes that light up the sky,
bringing joy to the hearts of each passersby.

In the darkness of night, the quiet still grows,
and each flake brings a peace that the season bestows.
The moon glow reflects off the country gone white,
now heralds a season of wintery delight.