Poem by Dan Stone
All living things
need sun to grow.
It’s not hypothesis
or metaphor,
it’s science—and poetry.
Farmers, florists,
gardeners, botanists
astronomers and mystics
are just a few
who help to prove
there is no lie
in that contention.
But growth is not
one single light’s invention.
Think of dreams
hunches, intuition
midnight magic
and imagination.
Think of tides
romances, runes
and menstruation,
phases, cycles, secrets,
night blooming jasmine
and gardenias,
black cats’ neon eyes.
Whether it be Wolf
or Worm, Blue or Buck,
Sturgeon or Strawberry
don’t mistake reflection
for indifference,
or lack of gravity.
Don’t make it all
so very light or dark.
Don’t move it all
to face the sun
or think to grab that only spark
behooves the only truth.
Yes that light
will have his day.
That’s where he rules.
But don’t be fooled,
blinded to all other ways.
The night is fallow, fertile,
having its own say.
The moon grows too.
All living things
need sun to grow.
It’s not hypothesis
or metaphor,
it’s science—and poetry.
Farmers, florists,
gardeners, botanists
astronomers and mystics
are just a few
who help to prove
there is no lie
in that contention.
But growth is not
one single light’s invention.
Think of dreams
hunches, intuition
midnight magic
and imagination.
Think of tides
romances, runes
and menstruation,
phases, cycles, secrets,
night blooming jasmine
and gardenias,
black cats’ neon eyes.
Whether it be Wolf
or Worm, Blue or Buck,
Sturgeon or Strawberry
don’t mistake reflection
for indifference,
or lack of gravity.
Don’t make it all
so very light or dark.
Don’t move it all
to face the sun
or think to grab that only spark
behooves the only truth.
Yes that light
will have his day.
That’s where he rules.
But don’t be fooled,
blinded to all other ways.
The night is fallow, fertile,
having its own say.
The moon grows too.