Moon Glow
By John Herlihy

The summer moon can be found,
Deep inside the hallowed ground,
Reflected in the waters of a well,
A squatter with a fine story to tell.
Silvery slivers of light protesting,
In the darkness of shadows projecting.
An owl’s eye or a firefly in a sealed jar,
The blackness aglow from a field of tar.

The autumn moon shines on harvest hay,
Downturned lips with very little to say.
The quiet woods absorbs its peaceful gaze,
What little there is left thru twilight haze.
Pearl gray shadows amid the rows of maze,
With summer gone, fireflies are in a daze.
The waning moon has nothing to show,
Autumn ghosts gather in the moon glow.

A winter moon follows Earth, a puppy well bred,
Shining as the bald crown on an old man’s head.
Moonrise climbs the horizon with its feeble call,
Echoing its faint sound from a nearby space hall.
The winter moon rides slowly the black sky’s arc,
Looking as wrinkled and brittle as dried tree bark.
Proud in its dedicated role as a solitary lunar orb,
All the world in its embrace its vitality to absorb.

The spring moon blinks blind it pale yellow light,
Taking in the world and everything in its sight.
The silent world below bathed from dusk to dawn,
In a silky light to bless the springtime spawn.
The earth below seemed home to a host of angels;
Each in a solitary world existing as individual strangers.
The moon shedding its light as a misty river,
The days wrapped in virgin blue, the nights virgin silver.