Dappled
Shadows of leaves stipple the ground
in swirling patterns, all around,
like footsteps left by tiny feet
dancing to the wind’s wild beat.
They lessen as the sun goes down
and the forest floor turns brown.
The sunlight that all day has made
each leaf stand out as dappled shade
sinks into some other sky,
but soon enough, the moon comes by
with shadows of its own to cast.
With wind died down, their patterns last,
sure and steady, through the night,
each ringed by the moon’s soft light.
Staunch resident of the heavens, the moon—
your constancy our guide and boon—
the pathway that your light lays down
brings my lover from the town
to stand beneath my bedroom pane,
handsome, gentle and urbane,
to nightly plead my hand and troth.
Soft call of bird and wing of moth
likewise beat against the glass,
supporting what will come to pass.
Our passion, soon to come to light,
was birthed in shadows of the night
whereas the light that without fail
will fall upon my wedding veil
will be the dappled light of sun,
revealing what the moon has won.
The Ragtag prompt is Dappled.
Fandango‘s prompt is Lessen.
Daily Addiction‘s prompt is Resident.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
Whimsical, romantic, and a delight to read. Well done, Judy!
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Thanks, V.J.
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You are very welcome.
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Troth. A lovely old-fashioned word we used to hear in wedding vows–“I plight thee my troth.”
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I have to admit, though sunlight can be dappled, I always think of my English setter who was an orange dapple, orange being pale brown in the dog world. And I learned to ride on a dappled white horse who hated me and went far afield to run my knee into any fencepost he could find. Most horses LIKED me, but not that one!
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A beautiful poem on a lovely phenomenon
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Thanks, Derrick.
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