Pure, clean, bright—
Earth’s moon rose over my fence and
As it rose it blessed earth
But did this pocked country
Of mountains, deserts, and oceans
rise?
Was it not earth’s turning creating
An illusion of rising?
Surely this pure, clean, bright moon
Has its own unique path in the vast orrery
That spreads way beyond my mind.
I will that last night’s moon
Was and is and will be a gift presented by
Earth and moon turning,
In harmony,
Each breathing deeply of this January night.
--January 27, 2013
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