Poet’s Moon

You sit there biding your time, out of your head and into your mindPenning thoughts that are dreams in actionA glass raised to an absent muse a boy stands in his father’s shoesAnd a drunk man smiles at a thistle under a Poet’s moonUnder a Poet’s moon there’s a life sign burningA Poet’s moon like a vision shining andThe lovers lie in the long grass, stolen flowers make their bedUnder a Poet’s moon there are dreams in action, prayers metAnd questions answered as the world birls in the darknessI’m still staring at the skies under a Poet’s moonA night black as hoodie’s eye, the sparks fly from a tinker’s fireAs the stories burn among us under a Poet’s moonA seed falls onto stony ground without a hope and without a soundFrom the weeds will grow the flowers under a Poet’s moonUnder a Poet’s moon, there’s a salmon settlingIn a guddler’s hand that is patient waitingWith a lover’s touch, a charmed lifeHis fingers play the reedsUnder a Poet’s moon there’s a whistle blowing out in no-amn’s landWhere a flare is falling in a deadly nightThe dreamers stand like flowers in a stormYou sit there biding your time out of your head and into your mindPenning thoughts that are dreams in actionA cross made in a polling booth, another flies in a fieldOf blue and a drunk man smilesAt a thistle under a Poet’s moonUnder a Poet’s moon there are angels crying, dead men bornAnd devils laughing and the dance goes on regardless tillYou’re carried from the floorUnder a Poet’s moon there are dreams in actionPrayers met and questions answered as the world birls in the darknessI’m still staring at the skies, under a Poet’s moon