O Moon

Pale blue and bright,
silhouetting the earth black
against its creamy face,
while rolling, gently bouncing along the hills;
an over-inflated beach ball
that sinks upward
'til it lies at the bottom of an inky sky;
go, and spill your beauty
on the laughing faces of happy flowers
blooming in every hue.

The restlessness you drag
as if it were a tide, lends itself
to long walks in mid-night
and sleepless wrestling's.
Incongruous and strange you shine
linking each to each without magic,
while the earth replies through the night,
a deep drum beat so people can't sleep.
Tuck up your trailing vestments, O moon,
booming softly through heaven,
and allow my kneeling vigil  'neath sparse oak
an end freed disquietude.