Poem: Wand

 

 Wand 

 

a crescent stirs silver

till stars feed the brew of dawn,

a radiant ladle in time,

whirls of fuchia melon amber and roses 

seeping through the onyx,

such radiant blooms!

 

then down down down dances the moon,

nowhere except back up again,

conducting leaf and beast, air and rain,

fitful baton of the mercurial stage.

 

we actors take cues from the lunar roam, 

wander our gauntlets, 

scene after act after play, 

curtains of light and lack and love,

birthed and cut and gone

 

and yet the wand finds us again

and sways.

 

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6/26 ... total change

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.  They have their exits and their entrances; and one soul in its time plays many parts.  As You Like It, Shakespeare