The Moon at Dusk
The pallid moon is satisfied—
Enthroned in dusky pastel for a seat,
Monarchy so bold and dignified,
Sailing over moorlands black as peat.
Ghostly skin alive by sun’s largesse,
A regal stature, radiant in mauve,
The silver muse bestows her sweet caress,
Upon the spanning rock and leafy grove.
The virgin body of the earth is pure,
Romanced by the luscious grip of night,
Waters move to meet this high allure,
Gravitation to a loving light.
Bright Pleiades aloft in violet hue,
Pleased to add the sparkle jest of stars,
Elders — standing high in distant view,
Comrade cheer from Halcyon bazaars.
Every ghost upon the welkin air,
Brightens in the thrall of full moon glow,
Pirouetting circles debonair,
Energised in gushing lunar flow.
I will stand in worshipful respect,
Bowing to this presence soft and sure,
Glittering in starfire — brightly decked,
Matchless is the moon’s superb allure.
ADL
adamdaniel 