The moon rose as a woman today,
Face half-buried in a pillow of clouds;
Her mouth round,
Eyes soft,
Looking on me
As I walked through pines
In the fading daylight.
Her gaze was half pity,
Half hope—
A gaze of infinite patience,
With eyes that know
The worst about us,
And hope for the best.
As she set, Venus ascended
With a harsh brightness
That put the lunar shine to shame;
A brilliance that cast its own shadows:
lust for what we cannot have;
The false promise of things
that cannot be.
poem by Patricia Thrushart
Patricia Thrushart has published two books, Little Girl Against The Wall, and Yin and Yang. Her work appears regularly in The Watershed Journal, a regional literary magazine of Northwestern Pennsylvania, and on the websites Dark Horse Appalachia and North/South Appalachia. Her poems have been published in Tiny Seed, The Brookville Mirror, Clarion University’s Tobeco, The Pittsburgh Post Gazette, and The Pennsylvania Poetry Society’s Magazine PENNESSENCE. She is an active member of the local writers’ community, presenting workshop sessions and participating in live poetry readings.
Nature in the Now 