Among the Scattered Stars

I (Renee) have been lacking the inspiration to blog on this blog. What with selling our house, homeschooling and all the other things that make life full, my mental energy has run a bit low. On an up note though, I have taken an interest (a small one) in reading poetry. I am fascinated by the poet's use of different words and how they intermingle to describe some indescribable thing. 

So since I love to share what's going on in my life and sometimes what I'm thinking I'll be sharing a poem that caught my fancy until my mental inspiration revives and I can once again share my own thoughts.

To start, I'll share one about the moon. Right now it is a waning full moon. And as the wind blows and the leaves fall, and the nights get darker, and the temperature drops every week, I will nestle into Love and find comfort in Him and in His gifted poets.

The Wind and The Moon

Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out;

You stare

In the air

Like a ghost in a chair,

Always looking what I am about;

I hate to be watched; I will blow you out."

The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.

So, Deep

On a heap

Of clouds to sleep,

Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon-

Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."

He turned in his bed; she was there again!

On high,

In the sky,

With her one ghost eye,

The Moon shone white and alive and plain,

Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again."

The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim,

"With my sledge

And my wedge

I have knocked off her edge!

If only I blow right fierce and grim,

The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."

He blew and blew, and she thinned to a thread.

"One puff

More's enough

To blow her to snuff!
One good puff more where the last was bred,

And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go that thread!"

He blew a great blast and the thread was gone.

In the air

Nowhere

Was a moonbeam bare;

Far-off and harmless the shy stars shone;

Sure and certain the Moon was gone!

The Wind he took to his revels once more;

On down,

In town,

Like a merry-mad clown,

He leaped and hallooed with whistle and roar-

"What's that?" The glimmering thread once more!

He flew in a rage; he danced and blew;

But in vain

Was the pain

Of his bursting brain;

For still the broader the Moon-scrap grew

The broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew.

Slowly she grew, till she filled the night,

And shone

On her throne

In the sky alone,

A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,

Radiant and lovely, the Queen of the night.

Said the Wind, "What a marvel of power am I!"

With my breath,

Good faith,

I blew her to death-

First blew her away right out of the sky-

Then blew her right in; what strength have I!"

But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair;

For high

In the sky

With her one white eye,

Motionless, miles above the air,

She had never heard the great Wind blare.

-George MacDonald