Midnight Rising

Midnight, the lopsided waxing moon
knows nothing of his warped aspect,
reflects the sun's radiance,
argent in the shadowed night,
illuminates the woodland canopy,
caresses the owl in silent flight.

We Rise

From the ashes of our lives,
if we can only choose to be reborn,
each of us becomes a phoenix rising
in the clear blue sky after the rain,
sunlight glints from our bejeweled wings.
Below us, our children soar to meet us,
long tail feathers dancing in the wind.