She Sheds Her Clothes Again

 
Green leaves begin their dying now

a few last bursts of summer's fling

before the chill nights ring the bell

and usher in the fall.

This night, the moon will rise 

a full and a luscious orange globe

above the tree tops you can see her

ablaze like Aztec gold.

The Hunter's Moon, they call her

at the Autumn's Equinox

heralding earth's proclivity

to shed her clothes.

The leaves will grow heavy

when the rains come

and they will come hard they say this year

and merciless for awhile until

the Sun decides to shine again and bring

the great north winds along to whistle.

Together they will spin their palette

splashing magic colors twirling

floating feathered leaves to cover

grass and moss and once again

the earth renews.

Joanne Cucinello 2012

Starlight Symphony

Song of man

lilt of woman's voice

the laughter of a child

like molecules of stardust

See! . . they float out

towards the heavens

even as they leave our lips.

Do not fear

that they are lost or vanished

for this can never be

not if these were born of love.

Love lives on eternal

every speck of it

every drop of goodness

that fills the  golden cup.

Our words, our songs

and all the sounds of life

once uttered

stay forever sacred

and though not composed of matter

they have life  . . . that time can never touch

for they transform into the

echoes, timbre chimes and bells,

the woodwinds of the Milky Way

the strings and timpani of comets

soaring by . . .

they continue their concertos

in the dark and fertile silence

of the cosmos

where the Earth spins

her glorious symphony for the stars.

Joanne Cucinello    2010