Night of the Blood Red Moon
The night was a raven's wing,
soft and black,
waiting to be adorned with
gold and silver chips
which never showed,
as the stars had spun off-
hidden deep in the backdrop,
and the moon had yet
to make its grand debut.
Soft sighs murmured through
the cottonwoods and
weeping willows
as the air loosened a bit.
Even the small, yellow orbs looming
through the cattails seemed
sleepy and benign.
Nightjars crooned lullabies,
and a faint rumble promised rain,
but perhaps it was only a train
rolling beyond the distant hills.
Not much more than that.
The evening lay still
as nature's script slept,
tucked inside dull, lethargic pages.
Then slowly, the ruby-eyed Cyclops
crept over the pond,
and as its lazy eyelid rose to
gaze upon the night,
all living creatures were
amazed- awestruck- at the
glorious sight of the
mysterious Blood Red Moon.
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