Waiting, with Blood Moon (a not-quite kenning) NaPoWriMo #14

Drizzling temptingly up from the east
you rise in traditional silver,
while an ocean of desert wind sloshes
against the house,
splashing windows and dashing doors.

A mere reflection of light,
you tease men into strange beliefs –
offense to the brain, lycanthrope, end of days,
or mere bad luck –
you hold no such sway over me.

But then, here I am,
ninety degree neck
waiting to pass – tiniest of shadows —
between you and the source
we all look to as life.

And still you drip, tantalizingly slow —
night gradient black-to-silver velvet behind you –
and I wait to see your perfect shine
tarnish away to coppery
bleeding, light.


I’m no viking, but I saw a couple of potential kennings here — but it could be wishful thinking. Happy moon watching one and all!


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