The Moon

I usually don't write poems. I have never been accused of being a poet, but presently my page lacks content and I lack the concentration to write anything and this is all I have on hand.



You show your face to tuck us in to cozy corners of our rooms
Lover’s best friend, you toil all night to provide the perfect setting,
You punch through windshields and windows illuminating dashboards and doorknobs, revealing smiles
You break through curtains and invade rooms to highlight her glowing skin
Artfully, you divide her face into little sections with lines like rivers of shadow,
Accentuating her vivid eyes
Shrouding her perfect lips with mystery
Sometimes you toss a gentle breeze and make her dance, though she lie perfectly still with the energy of an excited lover
Yet no one offers homage
Your calls for appreciation go unheralded
For we are a people who value boisterous strength above meek art
You take different shapes to declare your adversity
But you are noticed only when you are absent
A few times a year you summon your courage and collect your strength!
With a battle cry you call the tides and push them to land
Every time you are interrupted and burned away by the morning
And bidden goodnight by the sun