The moon

Once the blue moon risesYou can find me whispering to the starsAsking why I am left to the wolves They'll speak of highest mountainsI'll ask about the dirt below meAnd they'll point me toward the sea Once the red moon risesYou can find me yelling at the soilAsking if the wolves had to devour me … Continue reading The moon

The storm

The storm lit up the clouds. The dark blue sky turned into a musky light gray. Lightning strikes reached from the left to the right like tree branches. But then another strike would grow out smaller, barely reaching out, after that big moment. That last strike is me.   Copyright © Robin LeeAnn