Midnight Poetry

Midnight is that moonlit moment,

where cool mountain air tickles

the dark and sleepy green of the pines.

Midnight my body feels like lead,

yet my mind flies into silver clouds

floating beneath the stars.

Midnight the next day is born.

It is too small to do anything,

a crying infant, we soon rock ourselves,

a dissolving volume of heavy thoughts.

Midnight drinks my dreams.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert

 

Polish: Mountain Moment

Like silent empty bones,

concrete drinks heat from the sun.

Within a spring day,

the sound of a gurgling river,

kisses the moment.

The dusty dead giant,

ignores natures flirtations.

A butterfly stretches its wings,

in the thin mountain air.

The moment grabs my heart,

concrete and machinery dissolve

into roots, wet dirt, and fuzzy antennae.

Powdered wings lift my soul,

while the waterfall’s music

polishes submerged boulders.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert