Moonbeam Poem by Sally Plumb Plumb

Stay, worm,
I am not yet dead....
I am dying.

A spy of God
is watching me
whilst the season shrinks
and the stars blow out
their final colours.

When the mighty chariot descends,
take me to the fields.
As small as a poppy
I will hear it inhaling
the moon.
She is as nervous as a tremulous leaf.

Entering the universe,
a figment of idea,
free of my body,
an unseen spirit,
my amino acids left behind
to gravitate for reincarnation....

nothing left to do
but drift with moonbeams.



Waf