Wind, ghosts and starlight

After I’d wiped away the tears of laughter at The Barking Beatles, the oracle sobered me up with some calming and soothing thoughts. One from each of four sets of magnets.

 

Wind whispers to the sky,

shot through with rose-purple,

and the moon, singing sleep songs,

shines on still waters,

spraying diamond rain

among the shadows.

 

 

Always blue are ghosts,

never red,

for fire melts their velvet wings.

They dance in the dark,

sail slowly, flower-perfumed

to embrace eternity.

 

 

Dew is blue in the night,

touched by starlight.

Morning takes wing

and some tiny wish

comes true.

 

 

Follow the bee

to the blossom that falls

to earth, deep and dark.

Listen to the roots’ song,

sweet as the rose,

wild as the wind.