The Unschooled Moonlight
Ripples of empty bottles
Crenellate across the forgotten tracks
Where the elk have shed their
Crowns- beginning to think of death
As a friend across the caesuras
Of the mountain,
With absolutely no reason to believe
In the lighthouse that shines its
Beacon forever relentlessly across
The enlightened faces of
The proceeding valley-as the preacher
Gives sermons to the pew of his identity-
The rest is left to misgivings,
As the rains encounter the graveyards,
And the latchkeys run away once again
To the cerulean playgrounds
Stealing forever in the unschooled moonlight.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
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