The Tree Moon
The moon hiding
behind the fragmented clouds
right above
on the electric wires
Pointing, Mrs. Jung said
“Would you like to write a poem with?”
As soon as I looked up at the moon
moonlight poured out
When the water jar breaks
like the spreading sound
Our laughters soaked the streets
buried at night
from the side snooping tree
too coming closer
the branches applauded us
with a little wave of wind.
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