The Moon

Clouds drift across the moon
in a lacy mantilla
anticipating
like a wave,
hesitating
at its crest,
holding its breath
before dropping,
dropping into the night
from deep dark eyes.

   I often get up in the middle of the night to write. When this happens, one of the first things I do is look out the window to try and find the moon.  There is something anchoring for me about being able to see the moon and identify its phase. Last night as I was watching, lacy clouds shrouded the moon. When I see clouds over the moon, I always think of Alfred Noyes' poem THE HIGHWAYMAN.You might enjoy looking at the poem to see the different ways the poet describes the night.  Can you try writing your own poem about the moon today?