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The moon’s turned golden
as she’s climbed higher,
above the pounding of the waves.

The palms are still,
no breath moves,
save that of my pen,
whispering over the page.

– Silke Heiss, 22nd May 2024

Lunar

Darkening in the dark
of pine trees –
twilight.

*

Moon, tonight you are
a sliver, a rind
of all my yesterdays.

Moon, my life sometimes loses
its shape.

*

Boat-shaped moon
above the dark water
where do we sail tonight?

*

Glide by, silent moon,
glimpsed through windscreen and dark trees.
You lead, I’ll follow.

- Eduard Burle