She felt the pull of full moons on distant
cliff tops drowned in marbled light,
telescopic eyes waiting to know and bore
deeper each time. Her cocked ear heard
magnets align currents like stars beneath
a pained black sea. I think she knew.
In a dream I saw Venus at solstice
nursing spoonfuls of strawberry moon.
I thought it was her. That this time
she had wandered too close. But
in midnight mist I couldn’t be sure.
Dr Paul Waring lives in Wirral, UK, and previously lived in the United States, Spain and Portugal. He resumed writing poetry in 2016 after retiring as a clinical psychologist. He has also worked in banking and menswear design. In the 1980s he was a singer/songwriter. His work will feature in the forthcoming Reach Poetry magazine and his blog is https://waringwords.wordpress.com.