Twilight Woods

Written after an enchanting dance in the woods under trees and moon. 🙂🌳



The sun blazed high.

I looked to his power

for direction

and was blinded,

scorched until he danced,

a colourful myriad of inspirations,

even further from my reach,

into the sea.

I sat in the cool, soothing air,

listening to owls

telling their stories.

Night jasmine curled around gates

like children’s crowns woven

with white, fragile stars.

A hare leapt across a starlit field,

its tail bobbing like a tiny moon.

The gentle, round face of night’s queen,

simple, white and immense,

rose in the East.

Her light touched me

and did not burn.

I found my direction


under a bliss of stars,

dance moonwards.

Midnight Garden

I’m in the wood now,

by the moon mirror,

the still, black pond.

No leaves sway

on sentinel trees

this warm, windless night.

Jasmine scents,

a sleeping swan

the same colour as the moon,

her head tucked

under feathers.

I am the only one moving.

I shift upon a flat rock,

my fingers brush a fern.

I come here to be


a swan, the moon, a feather.

I would stay forever.

Soon I will hear the cries

of the other world,

the changing world,

and I will go back to

soothe, inspire, mother.

Until then, I rest

out of time.

Morning Wings

Morning wings
brush mine,
I wake to a
pale moon
in blue.
She sinks 
while we soar,
Sunlight rests
in Apple branches,
full of white
Could I rest 
there too?
I climb and touch
the sky.
The eastward 
moon rises,
I close my eyes.
I sink
I no longer
touch the ground.
I leave the Earth
for the Sky.

New Moon

My guardian angel
is mostly wing.

Silk-soft pillows
enfold me
in milky-
white safety

when I can’t find
the moon.

He says,
“Love is in
the ashes,
and there ain’t
nothin’ brighter
than the stars
on a new moon.”

My angel
is from
the streets.

Who would have
guessed I got
one from here?

“Did you fall
from heaven
or something?”

He flaps a
and grins.


This fun poem just came out as I pictured a very cool-looking angel helping me through this tricky lockdown time. I hope you can find humor and truth in it. – Giulietta

Flower Moon

Blackbird, silent.
Owl, orange

The trees, still
as stars.

Hidden squirrels
curl in branches,
waiting in the
cool touch
of night.

I, human,
feel animal

as I cross-leg
on rough dirt
and leaves,
the ground
colder than
where night
meets my cheek.

My bones echo
the bones buried
in Earth’s
dark embrace.

I left many
the biggest,
to be here

A screech warns
the shadow
of myself,

a blackbird song,
a glow to the East,
a lifting curve
of rose.

We all hold our breaths,
blackbird, owl,
squirrel and I.

She lifts higher,
until she is a
loving circle
of rose.

My hands
my shadows

I for a moment
am something other
than human.

This is inspired by the supermoon, 7 May. The May moon is sometimes called the Flower Moon.

Faith, Moth and the Moon

A story came to me about faith. It might be an essay or a poem. Whatever it is, it told me something helpful so I share it with you:

I sat in an airless room one night thinking about faith and thinking I didn’t have any when a moth flew at the window. He was trying to get out into the night. The moth flew again and again at the glass with his cream-colored wings and wouldn’t stop. I admired his tenacity and faith that he could find the moon if only he kept trying. I opened the window and let him out into the night. I knew he wouldn’t make it to the moon, what a silly idea, though I could not help but admire his bright heart.

Later that night I sat down to meditate. A moth flew in the window and landed on my face. I realised at that moment I was the moon.

And the moth, at that moment, had achieved its goal.

I am the Moon’s

A swirling under
the lunatic moon

she says
dance with me
yet stands
so far so

The wind pushes
leaves through
the tangles
of shadow-

at what cost
do I linger
in dappled night?

I am
the moon’s
so I am

I am

caught in the
clarity of
the sun’s