Mourn that moon,
gone too soon,
swallowed whole by ombre blue
and egg yolk rising.
Perhaps she’s got work to do
on the other side,
as we run and hide and vow
of silence in the drench of dawn.
Maybe she wanes and yawns
and slips between
snowy mountain sheets, completes
the day with a lullaby stretch and song
while we are left to wonder
and wander these daybreak streets,
too stubborn to say we’re tired,
too shy to say we’re lost.
In April, we poem. Day one of the April PAD Challenge. Come play!