The Moon Follows

Lately, I’ve been spending extra time with the night sky—partly because the crescent moon and planetary parade have been gorgeous and partly because my dog Lucy thinks 2 a.m. is adventure hour. So, there I was, staring up at the night sky (again), and there she was—the moon, staring right back. And I started thinking about how it’s always just there—watching, glowing, following.

There’s something comforting about that, isn’t there? In a world that never stops shifting—where trends fade, plans change, and life moves faster than we sometimes want—the moon stays the same. A quiet, steady presence. A constant in the chaos.

This poem is a nostalgic, quirky take on everyday life, late-night thoughts, and the little moments we don’t always notice—like whether my kid will even see the moon or just keep staring at a screen. The moon sees it all. Says nothing. Just keeps shining, like a quiet witness to all of life’s tiny absurdities.

What follows are my moonlit musing on life’s small, silly, and suspiciously profound moments—because if the moon can keep glowing through it all, so can we.

When I was little,

I thought the moon followed me home.

Hung just outside the car window,

peeking through tree branches,

floating over highways,

never too far behind.

The moon knows things.

Watches me spill coffee down my shirt at 7 a.m.,

nods like it saw that coming.

Sees me stare at the ceiling at 2:36 a.m.,

debating if I missed my true calling—

Should I have been an archaeologist?

A beekeeper?

Or at least someone who knows how to fold a fitted sheet?

The moon saw me set my alarm for 6 a.m.,

watched me hit snooze five times,

then scroll my phone for thirty minutes

like that wasn’t the plan all along.

The moon saw me aggressively whisper “thank you”

to the self-checkout machine,

because I refuse to be rude to robots.

(It’s only a matter of time, anyway.)

The moon saw me whisper “oops” to myself

when I tripped over absolutely nothing.

Saw me open my laptop with great intention,

then immediately check the weather,

like I don’t already know what season it is.

The moon has witnessed it all—

every text I typed and deleted,

every awkward wave when I thought someone was waving at me,

every time I sang the wrong lyrics to a song

and kept right on singing.

The moon watches me rehearse arguments in the shower,

perfectly phrased comebacks

for conversations that no longer need me.

It sees me laugh too loud in the car,

then immediately wonder if I’m actually funny

or just bad at silence.

And now I wonder—

when my daughter stares out the car window,

will she think the moon follows her too?

Or will she be too busy looking down

at a tiny, glowing screen,

learning from a machine

that already knows where she’s going?

The moon sees it all.

Says nothing.

Just keeps shining,

like a friend who knows too much,

but lets you pretend otherwise.

Aria of Words

 I have an ariamade up of wordslike cells replicating within me.My hands at the ready,fingers tapping against the keys,searching for the stringof perfect words, nouns, phrases,to make up a sentencethat says it all.My own perfect concertoflaton to a blank page. 

Book Review: "And We Stay" by Jenny Hubbard

And We Stay by Jenny Hubbard the author of Paper Covers Rock is a story of overcoming tragedy and is full of good prose and in a few instances poetry which caused me do that thing, where you inhale and hold it for a second…because you want to pause for a moment to give yourself enough time to really absorb the words.Though I enjoyed the story overall, I felt disconnected  from the main character Emily Beam, as she tried to deal with her guilt over the role she played in the events that transpired in her school's library. Events, which ultimately led her to be in Amerherst, the home town of her favorite poet Emily Dickinson. I have to wonder if the author didn't choose to write in third person so that the reader would feel a separation from Emily, much like she felt from the world as she struggled to face the pivotal moments that shattered her life. It is through her poetry the reader really begins to feel for Emily, and I suppose that is the point.If I had one issue with the plot it's with regards to Emily Beam's character mirroring to perfectly in a lot of ways that of Emily Dickinson. I however enjoyed some of the history regarding Emily Dickinson and the treat of both her poems and those written by her namesake.And We Stay by Jenny HubbardPublished by Random House LLC on 28 Jan 2014Genre: Young AdultStand Alone or Series: It's a loner.Source: NetGalleyFormat: eARCBuy on Amazon • Goodreads

Book Review: "And We Stay" by Jenny Hubbard

And We Stay by Jenny Hubbard the author of Paper Covers Rock is a story of overcoming tragedy and is full of good prose and in a few instances poetry which caused me do that thing, where you inhale and hold it for a second…because you want to pause for a moment to give yourself enough time to really absorb the words.Though I enjoyed the story overall, I felt disconnected  from the main character Emily Beam, as she tried to deal with her guilt over the role she played in the events that transpired in her school's library. Events, which ultimately led her to be in Amerherst, the home town of her favorite poet Emily Dickinson. I have to wonder if the author didn't choose to write in third person so that the reader would feel a separation from Emily, much like she felt from the world as she struggled to face the pivotal moments that shattered her life. It is through her poetry the reader really begins to feel for Emily, and I suppose that is the point.If I had one issue with the plot it's with regards to Emily Beam's character mirroring to perfectly in a lot of ways that of Emily Dickinson. I however enjoyed some of the history regarding Emily Dickinson and the treat of both her poems and those written by her namesake.And We Stay by Jenny HubbardPublished by Random House LLC on 28 Jan 2014Genre: Young AdultStand Alone or Series: It's a loner.Source: NetGalleyFormat: eARCBuy on Amazon • Goodreads

Here I Love You, Aqui Te Amo - Pablo Neruda Poem

Being separated from my husband is not something that is unfamiliar to me. This poem expresses the longing I feel to be near his bones so perfectly. So keenly. Indeed I think what made Neruda a great romantic poet was not his ability to write about love but to express it's completeness, it's at times imperfection, or complication so truthfully.

 Here I Love You

Here I love you.In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.The snow unfurls in dancing figures.A silver gull slips down from the west.Sometimes a sail. High, high stars.Oh the black cross of a ship.Alone.Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.Far away the sea sounds and resounds.This is a port.Here I love you.Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.I love you still among these cold things.Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vesselsthat cross the sea towards no arrival.I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.I love what I do not have. You are so far.My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.But night comes and starts to sing to me.The moon turns its clockwork dream.The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.And as I love you, the pines in the windwant to sing your name with their leaves of wire.

 *****

Aquí Te Amo

En los oscuros pinos se desenreda el viento.Fosforece la luna sobre las aguas errantes.Andan días iguales persiguiéndose.Se desciñe la niebla en danzantes figuras.Una gaviota de plata se descuelga del ocaso.A veces una vela. Altas, altas estrellas.O la cruz negra de un barco.Solo.A veces amanezco, y hasta mi alma está húmeda.Suena, resuena el mar lejano.Este es un puerto.Aquí te amo.Aquí te amo y en vano te oculta el horizonte.Te estoy amando aún entre estas frías cosas.A veces van mis besos en esos barcos graves,que corren por el mar hacia donde no llegan.Ya me veo olvidado como estas viejas anclas.Son más tristes los muelles cuando atraca la tarde.Se fatiga mi vida inútilmente hambrienta.Amo lo que no tengo. Estás tú tan distante.Mi hastío forcejea con los lentos crepúsculos.Pero la noche llega y comienza a cantarme.La luna hace girar su rodaje de sueño.Me miran con tus ojos las estrellas más grandes.Y como yo te amo, los pinos en el viento,quieren cantar tu nombre con sus hojas de alambre

Pablo Neruda

I shall not live in vain - Emily Dickinson

VIIF I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain;If I can ease one life the aching,Or cool one pain,Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again,I shall not live in vain~Emily Dickinson

Mouthful of Forevers

I think my heart stopped when I read this. xo n.

I am not the first person you loved.You are not the first person I looked atwith a mouthful of forevers. Wehave both known loss like the sharp edgesof a knife. We have both lived with lipsmore scar tissue than skin. Our love cameunannounced in the middle of the night.Our love came when we’d given upon asking love to come. I thinkthat has to be partof its miracle.This is how we heal.I will kiss you like forgiveness. Youwill hold me like I’m hope. Our armswill bandage and we will press promisesbetween us like flowers in a book.I will write sonnets to the salt of sweaton your skin. I will write novels to the scarof your nose. I will write a dictionaryof all the words I have used tryingto describe the way it feels to have finally,finally found you.And I will not be afraidof your scars.I know sometimesit’s still hard to let me see youin all your cracked perfection,but please know:whether it’s the days you burnmore brilliant than the sunor the nights you collapse into my lapyour body broken into a thousand questions,you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.I will love you when you are a still day.I will love you when you are a hurricane.

— Clementine von Radics, “Mouthful of Forevers”