Upon Seeing Her Reflection, the Moon Whispered Words of Love to Melt the Night’s Edge

Micro-Fiction

Her silver liquid slid between violet clouds to fill the dark void, and the night listened to the pouring mist.

Tree silhouettes leaned in closer to hear each splash, their shadows rippling with curiosity.

And the owl curdled the air, whipping it into a frenzy of stars to brighten the surface of the swell.

And so it was, each night. The moon swooned, the mist poured, and the owl lit the stars, until, on the coldest evening, a snowflake flurried.

Snow stole the limelight of the moon and covered each tree in glistening sugar, so crisp.

Ice hung like diamonds from every branch and blade of grass, and the swans sifted the snow.

Then the thaw came one midday, and the ice dripped into the evening till the moon reclaimed her shadow.

Upon seeing her reflection, the moon whispered words of love to melt the night’s edge.

Her silver liquid slid between violet clouds to fill the dark void, and the night listened to the pouring of the mist.

Tree silhouettes leaned in closer to hear each splash, their shadows rippling with curiosity.

And the owl curdled the air, whipping it into a frenzy of stars to brighten the surface of the swell.

And so it was, each night. The moon swooned, the mist poured, and the owl lit the stars, until, on the coldest evening, a snowflake flurried.

Snow stole the limelight of the moon and covered each tree in glistening sugar, so crisp.

Ice hung like diamonds from every branch and blade of grass, and the swans sifted the snow.

Then the thaw came one midday, and the ice dripped into the evening till the moon reclaimed her shadow.

Independent content creator, ghostwriter, author https://tinyurl.com/y2cgqhgv mental health advocate, and poet. bridgetwebbber@outlook.com

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