The Flower Moon
O silver bloom in midnight sky,
You rise where hush and heavens lie.
A bridal lamp on petals strewn,
The soft unfurling Flower Moon.
You bloom above the sleeping trees,
And stir the tides with silent pleas.
The lilies tilt, the roses sway,
You paint the world in ghostly day.
Not cold like snow, nor harsh like flame,
You whisper softly Heaven’s name.
A sign, a clock, a song begun—
You dance upon the dark undone.
The fields remember what was sown,
The winds recall what seeds were blown.
You bid the buried root arise,
And stretch its arms toward starlit skies.
The watchers wake, the foxes roam,
The meadow dreams of Eden’s home.
The waters still, the shadows lean,
Beneath your gaze so wide and clean.
O Flower Moon, with sacred face,
You speak of cycles, light, and grace.
You bloom not just in sky above,
But in the soul that waits with love.
For like the fig tree’s tender limb,
You mark the time when days grow dim—
And hearts that watch shall not despair,
For signs are written everywhere.
Shine on, O moon, until the day
The Morning Star sweeps night away.
Written by Marguerite Grace
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verse, possies, sonnets, and short stories 