Day longs for night

Here in Minnesota, with the trees wearing sweaters of snow and the avenues snow-plow-sculpted in ice, my thoughts are turning to Florida.

I miss the Spanish Moss draping the trees, multiple rainbows and temperatures hovering at  70 degrees.

Here’s a thinking-of-Florida poem:

Day Longs for Night
Annette Marie Hyder

The night
lets down her long dark gypsy hair
spins on her bare feet
and stomps her passion
for moths, black blooms
bats and all things witchy.

The moonlight,
her Mona Lisa smile,
mysterious and subtle, suffuses her
wild beauty
with a gentleness so fragile
it can be broken by
the ephemera of clouds.

Pieces of her hair
catch in the swaying trees
to curl and dry by morning’s light
into Spanish moss
as if the trees
could not bear
to let her go.

And she had no princess slipper
to leave upon the lawn
but she left dewdrops
crystal beads of perspiration
for day to come upon.

Day spends his time plotting
ways to find her in his arms —
the sunset a prayer, a beacon,
a campfire, for her wandering to find.

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