The Moon Man scans the sky.
Dippers, small and large
hold his dreams.
He drinks his fill
and waits.
When she appears,
the moon is a hussy,
and makes him
laugh at her
full-figured glory.
Simmer down now!
He’s in her thrall
and finds it hard to
remember that
she comes and goes –
shy and brazen,
flirtatious and sad,
always seductive.
Not to be trusted,
really.
Much better to
stow his dreams
in that cup of stars
pointing north.
This (along with that poem about choosing the road) might be the best thing you've written! I LOVE this.
ReplyDeleteTell the Moon Man I said so. :)
Thanks Karen! I struggled mightily with it - I'm trying to get back into writing. Your poem inspired me!
DeleteI just knew you'd have a moon picture tonight. What a pleasant surprise that a poem came along with it!
ReplyDeleteThis poem is very polished, very accomplished.
ReplyDelete"Not to be trusted, really." Do it, Moon Man! This time will be different!
ReplyDeleteshe may go but she always returns.
ReplyDeleteSo true. You can't depend on her. She's a little different every night. I got up while it was still dark this morning, and she was so big and so white and so low. Beautiful... like your poem.
ReplyDeleteDana, this is lovely and what an amazing photo! You can see so much detail!
ReplyDeleteI can hear the Moon Man sighing. I just love this poem - it captures moon and stars together in a way that seems perfect. What a nice almost-ending to Poetry Month, and what a wonderful satisfaction it must be to you to have produced it!
ReplyDelete