Thursday, September 1, 2011

Moon 4

Hey, I found you moon!
Excuse my lunacy ha ha
Was looking out the back door
while you soared into the night
out the front, a classic
nursery rhyme version
a rock-a-bye cradle.
At the same time, as sharp 
as an upholstery needle
renovating the stark black.
Miraculous satellite, and source
of wonder, I marvel
that your wholeness, unlit,
is completely visible. 



  1. You are my sonshine, my only sonshine... :)

    In the above poem I really like the upholstery needle image - ouch, I'll remember to stay away from those.

    Wonderful poems here!