Moon

Ali stretched his hand towards the night sky and pulled down a crescent of milk-white seaglass, polished smooth by decades of waves. ‘Here is all the moon I can reach,’ he said. His lover smiled in silence, her eyes full of starlight. She touched the glass to her lips.

Beach night

The beach stones are thousand-year smooth, grey light grey when the clouds clear the moon, black as the night when the misting returns. The sky-black sea crashes foam white at its border. If there are voices, they are distant, both in place and time.

Three pieces about the shortest and longest days (2 by me, 1 by Karina Brink)

The shortest day beckons sunlight.
The darkest night is before the dawn.
The path ahead may be through the shadows
but even this will pass.

***

The longest day brings an abundance of light.
Banishes all darkness & shadows.
At night, short & sweet:
Only dreams
Of hope.

***

Dreams of colour, splintered light.
The darkness behind the mirror leaves us with the shortest night.
And hope slow burns.

Honoured to share a page with Karina Brink @KarinaMSzczurek