Poetry: Moon

Dear Moon—You beautiful ball of white light. I saw your smiling face this evening, and it reminded me of home. You stood—a shiny ball imposed on the fleeting night clouds. I see you as a myth, a floating phantom without legs. You swept—the streets and roads clean with your pretty light. Incredible, natural, unspoiled, immaculate, and divine only describe your supernatural existence.

Solitude is the title of your mime. Yet you give your light to the deserving and undeserving, to the sick and the healthy, to the poor and the wealthy. Shadows fall, and they fall behind poles, houses, people, and towers. It was a pleasure to see your pretty face once again!