Water Moon; Thank You Notes by Claire Pajka

Water Moon

sky overflowing

choking with stars above

my head, bent down busy

collecting.

You shimmer on obsidian mirror

frozen glass so still

worry each step

will shatter curved spine.

water moon

my vessel and you

illusions shared experience

thrills, existing where we shouldn’t

dread breath of sun

on tonight’s suffocating dark

Coat pockets, hiding places

weak seam unravels, rip

granite from my pants, my hands

slip, you swallow my stones

of second thought.

Thank You Notes

I. to the evening swan

I ramble down slumping river bank

watch dozing light dance white

peaks in silver glitter, gifted by sliding sun.

Twilight songbird melodies, shallow waves

lap and mutter at cobbled shore.

Spine matching alder trunk, I watch

wait for your reveille blessing

gunshot snapping wings of fowl

taking flight, collective rise for near horizon

but headed for landscape far larger than I can see.

II. to the trout lily

Shade tolerant sprout,

patient of passing, even prolonged darkness,

can you handle chill of winter’s hands surrounding stem?

Soon enough, winter withers.

Feel spring arrive; wild wind at dawn,

verdant breath over frost.

Even hardiest perennials perish

at thoughts of mornings a bit too icy.

Frozen ground breathes out

thaws, and gifts confidence:

poke your leaves through sogged soil

petals closed in bold prayer for protection

petitioning for absence of late spring snows.

III. to the butterfly that joined me on my run

I met you where the trees form a tunnel,

both of us sucked into cyclone of branches.

I shooed you forward to keep flying

so I could have some company

you kept one flutter in front for a quarter mile

before you decided to forget me

flew fast so as to leave me behind.

my stubborn faith.

I sprinted to keep my companion,

knowing this was not sustainable, but

I can tire myself for as long as I enjoy it.

Blinding pace for another five minutes

you veered left into blackberry brambles

where I reluctantly left you.

The trail curves right and I follow it.

Author Bio: Claire is a biology and creative writing undergraduate student at the University of Michigan whose love of the natural world inspires her poetry. She grew up on the edge of Cuyahoga Valley National Park, and currently resides along the Huron River in Ann Arbor.