The Ballerina by sheila todd moon

Pink slippers twirl on and on,

While the woodpecker brainstorms

a morning hymn,

Daylight lifts her shoulders

past the dawn,

The ballerina has been drilling all night,

She flaunts her skirts like whirl pools

So fast and bright,

The ballerina spins on tips

Of a carnation,

She triumphs on her nimble toes,

The day fixes his eyes

in the mist fragile music,

The backstage doze off in the shadow,

There is no sound, no Africa next door,

Just the pauses for breath

And roses drifting

with a hiss to the floor.

 

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Eyes

Eyes blink,
The wonder of happiness inside.
.
Sometimes tears well up,
upon the fists of anger.
.
Sweetly, eye brows protect,
Ashes through the closing of eye lids.
.
If eyes open, wide and round,
All views are safe, new, and solid like pound.
.
when eyes close tight, and still,
mind goes home for rest, on a green hill.
.
Eyes are like doors,
they lead you to another place.
Eyes are windows,
they show distanced world via reading or traveling.

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