I was talking to the moon,
Interrupted by clouds and dark,
even the stars blinked
out of sight. She was so familiar.
It seemed words were hardly
necessary. She tilted
into the sky, so inviting,
her cratered face open, she was content
to reflect borrowed light,
silent beams bending in trees.
Talking to the Moon
I was talking to the moon, Interrupted by clouds and dark, even the stars blinked out of sight. She was so familiar. It seemed words were hardly necessary. She tilted into the sky, so inviting, her cratered face open, she was content to reflect borrowed light, silent beams bending in trees.