THE POETESS III (Beneath Her Fingers)
 

The night teases—its moon's silvery wings

barely touches the silhouettes and

the shadows...the buds with all their intricate

sheaths wonder, could there be eyes

to behold them, but better yet

slumber at the whispers 

of the wind...all these

and more beneath the fingers

of the Poetess who indites.

Her little audience, the moth

that silently flutters—brewing little

joys before the dawn comes,

calmly settles near a flickering

lamp. On her part,

her journey has just begun. 

By: Elena Maria Mana-ay Parcon©2020

Date Presented: June 25, 2020