The moon
is everything
tonight not the
lamp shining
on the page
not the TV's blue glare.
The moon
white lady
rides the night
like a woman
astride a black stallion.
She peers at herself
in the pond
and the bullfrogs flood
her light with thrum
and twang.
We stand
under the dark sky--
her brilliance floods
our vision seeps into
our blood. Her silver
flows through our bones
and our tongues taste
swelling tide.
(c)Serena Fusek 2010
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