It’s late or early, depending on how you look at it.
I'm tired, too tired to utter brilliant nothings.
Too tired to write of witty observations
or conjure calculated conjectures.
It’s late or early, depending on how you look at it.
Twilight sings crescendos and decrescendos
to stitch the dusk to dawn.
The moon sits ripe in indigo,
so crisp and lucid that enamored spectators
reach with worn fingers
to pluck her from her cosmic perch
as one might a tempting persimmon.
It’s late or early, as it always has and always will.
Still, the moon sits ripe in indigo.
http://www.wisdom-of-astrology.com/wintersolstice%26cancerfullmoon2007
I'm tired, too tired to utter brilliant nothings.
Too tired to write of witty observations
or conjure calculated conjectures.
It’s late or early, depending on how you look at it.
Twilight sings crescendos and decrescendos
to stitch the dusk to dawn.
The moon sits ripe in indigo,
so crisp and lucid that enamored spectators
reach with worn fingers
to pluck her from her cosmic perch
as one might a tempting persimmon.
It’s late or early, as it always has and always will.
Still, the moon sits ripe in indigo.
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