Marjorie A. Buettner...


summer moon

sleep draws me out like a bee sucking nectar from a flower. It wants to ingest and absorb me; I become liquefied, transformed into something shimmering and cool--nectar of the gods--while my dreams become a mountain stream I float in touching the edges of the moon . . .

summer moon . . . the world engulfed by this summer moon

WHCHaibun 2010-07-27

Copyright Marjorie Buettner, 2009