A moon is cresting the horizon, it's huge and creamy
The colour reminiscent of churned butter, old roses, love
And as I drive home, I catch glimpses of it as it rises
Through the trees in the park, over, and between the peaks
Of houses and other buildings; it makes arcing progress
Easily tracked and yet always slightly surprising in that
Way that makes one go, 'ah, there you are' — as if greeting
An old friend playing a casual game of hide 'n see
While you go on your way, and it goes on its way also.
S.E.Ingraham©
