dusk mother

she’s the dusk mother, the nighttime queen
didn’t ya kno?

look up at the stars, there’s a lot to behold.
didn’t someone fit that all in their palm at one point?

Why do children born at night only cry for themselves?
didn’t they remember their mothers?

she’s the dusk mother, the nighttime queen
she only watches over dandelions being eaten by darkness
and black swans that sing distant lullabies
she only speaks for the deer with tree’s roots for antlers
and monsters that travel with the wind

she’s the ruler of the moon, the tide, and the hunt,
slender fingers plucking twigs out of your white hair
and pale blue eyes squinting at your lack of song

she’s always ready, to lay on a bed of moss and let the morning take over
she’s forever waiting for the harvest when corn will be gathered and the field mice will come out to play
for now, she stands on the cliff’s edge,
ready to plummet once the sun peeks over the horizon.

 

Inspired by Brian Serway’s Piece, “Dusk Mother.”

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