Poetry & Stories

The Moon

The moon—
Ah, yes, the moon.

It was resting, a tiny sliver of a smile
     crescented upon the night sky,
     the sky blue-black and tinted by the lights of the City
     (those lights—the throb of energy which pulsated from
     the earth, the people and all their inventions).

The sky continued in its promise to
forever provide a bed for Moon.

Moon sat above, perched in a corner of Sky,
     and watched with frivolity the beams of light
     from City which tried in vain to burst out of the
     confines of their cage and reach Moon, only to get
     part of the way there and blend into Sky's earth-region
     in a diffuse glow, used up of the power and strength
     necessary to make the great escape. Moon knew it had
     only one rival in the sky, and it spent all its time on
     the other side of Earth, chasing round and round,
     telling time and pursuing Moon forever in a tireless
     game of ring-around-the-planet.


(Written in 1980)

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