Creativity with Fun

Moon Rising

Faint, hollow hint of a disc
Timidly peeking through the luminous sky-frosting
You hesitate for a few breaths
Then slide slowly up
Ascending a layered cake of yellow, orange, blue, magenta, pink
You grow more distinct
Turning your yellow face towards me
Climbing up still
What a paradox
You're growing smaller and more distant
Yet brighter as you go
Are you happier now that you’re leaving me?
Perhaps you don’t belong here
Low on the ground with me
You have your own commitments
To shine a path for the night fishers
And a beckoning column of glowing light on water.

November 2003