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alee_grrlSome weeks back zirconium won the Climbing the Poet's Tree Challenge for Challenge #7. She selected a poem written by me as her prize. When I asked her what topic she wanted a poem on, she asked for a poem in response to one of her poems. She has many lovely poems and I highly recommend you go read them. Ultimately this is the one I chose as it spoke quite loudly to my muse. The resulting poem was also heavily influenced by the Southern US flavor of some of zirconium's poems.
zirconium has kindly given me permission to post her prize here. And so I present:
Cheshire Magic
That silver sliver of moon hangs low over the horizon
Venus bright and shining nearby;
the rainsong thrum of cicadas dense in the air.
Beads of sweat drip down her face,
she wipes her brow with a soft old cloth,
and sways with the warm light breeze.
Lightning bugs wink in warm summer air;
children's laughter dances through the night.
A smile plays across her upturned face.
She hums as she dances in the moonlight,
the frogs keeping time with their croaks.
The mosquitos buzz, but she pays them no mind.
She dances the weight of the week off her shoulders
each step a hopeful wish for the coming days.
Some spells need no words; some prayers are silent.
Waltzing with the wind on a Saturday night
she knows one thing for sure.
Mischief and magic are both likely under this Cheshire moon.
zirconium won the Climbing the Poet's Tree Challenge for Challenge #7. She selected a poem written by me as her prize. When I asked her what topic she wanted a poem on, she asked for a poem in response to one of her poems. She has many lovely poems and I highly recommend you go read them. Ultimately this is the one I chose as it spoke quite loudly to my muse. The resulting poem was also heavily influenced by the Southern US flavor of some of zirconium's poems.zirconium has kindly given me permission to post her prize here. And so I present:Cheshire Magic
That silver sliver of moon hangs low over the horizon
Venus bright and shining nearby;
the rainsong thrum of cicadas dense in the air.
Beads of sweat drip down her face,
she wipes her brow with a soft old cloth,
and sways with the warm light breeze.
Lightning bugs wink in warm summer air;
children's laughter dances through the night.
A smile plays across her upturned face.
She hums as she dances in the moonlight,
the frogs keeping time with their croaks.
The mosquitos buzz, but she pays them no mind.
She dances the weight of the week off her shoulders
each step a hopeful wish for the coming days.
Some spells need no words; some prayers are silent.
Waltzing with the wind on a Saturday night
she knows one thing for sure.
Mischief and magic are both likely under this Cheshire moon.
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