ON A MOONLIT NIGHT
by Rachelle Arlin Credo


Peering through the window, water apple leaves
sway with the breeze; dancers of the night
with green veined fingers cast quirky shadows
against the cream-colored concrete walls.

Beneath them, i turn to the porcelain cup
in my hands, whirling the tinted water of
fresh picked tea leaves invisible under steam
before lushing up to quench my thirst.

I look up and marvel
as succulent water apples
bounce back and forth
from their wellspring
like little children
playing tug-of-war.

It's an ingenuous spectacle
of swollen receptacles and
callyces on chlorophyll clothes
and cellulose accessories.

With the wind swatting their soft skins,
i wonder how they held on
and remained firm with every blow.
Wouldn't they want to be free
and relish liberty on the ground?

I lay my back on a soft cushion
as the reality finally convinces me
life --
in its bare simplicity.
I simply smile.



Rachelle Arlin Credo
Copyright 2005-2006

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