|The moon peeking through my kitchen window.|
Have you ever watched the night?
when slivers of stars cut through
to accompany the moon
self-aware of its splendor even when new.
The moon knows it will grow
big, round, projecting a sheet of glow,
gently caressing whatever
rests or moves on earth,
singing a silent lullaby
to those who glisten
in her beams of soft flow.
Must be nice to be the moon.
To go around the world
even when clouds darken its view,
or people create sheets of smoke
concealing beauty, constricting growth,
strangling their own Mother, who gives
The moon keeps on
what it knows.
(Submitted to Poets United.)