The Crescent Moon
By John Herlihy

The crescent moon sends forth pale light,
Stealing away some darkness from the ebony night.
It wears a veil both shadowy and sly,
Hiding half its face like a maiden pretending to be shy.
Embarrassed perhaps by borrowed light that is not its own,
Like a wandering orphan whose origin is unknown.
The old man climbs over the horizon with a tired face,
One step at a time carrying many years now laid waste.
The crescent moon peeks thru the pillows of a passing cloud,
Ready to illuminate the darkened earth with its smile avowed.
The shape of the moon scares us, like an avenging scythe,
As if intent upon riding the world of intolerable strife.
It experiences seasons and phases just like those on earth,
Scarcity and plenty since the age of its birth.
It controls the ocean’s tides by its powerful attraction,
Pulling the waters in and out as a form of heavenly distraction.
The moon is there to remind us through its mysterious presence,
We are a world within many worlds inspiring complete reverence.