Inspiration

                                         Photograph DovieMoon

Beginning

The moon drops one or two feathers into the fiels.
   The dark wheat listens.
   Be still.
   Now.
   There they are, the moon's young, trying
   Their wings.
   Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow
   Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone
   Wholly, into the air.
   I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe
   Or move.
   I listen.
   The wheat leans back toward its own darkness,
   And I lean toward mine.

by James Wright