Literature
To the Crescent Moon
Crescent moon,
hanging low,
slim and frail
against the
strength
of brighter
stars,
larger
planets -
strikes a
chord,
brings on
thoughts-
images
and I am there -
If I were
a working man,
I would hang
my coat on you,
oh crescent moon -
at end of day -
a little brightness
in a long, weary
week -
just a peek
of splendor...
If I were
a giant,
I would reach out
and pluck you
from your
comfort sky
and wear you
as a hat
with silver
to impress-
I guess
it would
be alright -
just tonight...
If I were
a child again,
a wondering babe,
I could be rocked
to sleep
in your lilting,
tilting cradle
as the lullabies
tell-
oh well...
But now it is
midnight