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Monday, May 15, 2006

Howling at the Moon

Where the moon rises,
Is when I first saw her.
To have beheld this angel was indeed a fortune,
For even the Earth doth obey the glowing, ebullient moon.

The waxing orb,
Though it begins as nothing,
Brings life to the night, even as I watched her tread.
Her gentle footsteps left blooming flowers in their wake.

The full moon,
Like a mighty pearl,
Cast no shadow upon her. Her radiant beauty shone forth,
Like the most delicate petal of the whitest rose in the summer sun.

The waning sphere,
Though retreating momentarily,
Was when I saw her make hay, as she danced merrily away.
Her snow-soft skin facilely poised, as she darted out of night and day.

Where the moon sets,
Is at her delicate feet.
And that is where my frivolous, wandering heart,
Sleeping most softly and peacefully, will at last come to rest.
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