To the Moon, 4 a.m.
I thought I was the only one up,
but there you were, turning the kitchen windows
into blue stairwells.
My eyes climbed to the surprise
of your brightness, a not-quite-sphere of light that redeemed
this whole muddled night,
the unexpected that was exactly
as it should be,
for which I thank you,
(for which I thank you.)
*************************
A poem for Kerry O’Connor’s moon micro poetry challenge on real toads.
Another version for those interested.
***********************
To the Moon, 4 a.m.
I thought I was the only one up,
but there you were, turning the kitchen windows
into blue stairwells.
My eyes climbed to the surprise
of your brightness–a not-near-sphere of light that redeemed
this muddled night, its inconstancy
as reliable as the breath, or death, a circle not
wholly seen.
************************************
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