I wanted the moon to fill up the night
like a presence we couldn’t ignore,
to shine bright as day in the dark quiet air
like’s been told in stories of yore.
I wanted the harvest moon rising
poetically over a hill.
But, I got a sliver of somebody’s nail
in a vast night-darkened shill.
Alas, tis the day and the tale needs a tell
there’s something to say & I should
though the moonlight last night was not a bit right,
but, I can’t speak a lie if I would.
So, I’ll tell of the dark and the failing moon too;
I’ll focus on darkness instead of the blue,
and woodland spirits will dance a sweet jig
on the single white shaft of dew.
by Annette Gagliardi
Copyright © Annette Gagliardi | Year Posted 2017