Hovering just above the trees
silhouetted
against an indigo canvas.
The moon
an amber
crescent,
hangs as if on a hook
or maybe it is the hook
that the sky is attached to.
Nailed to the velvety sky
seductive.
Into the imaginings I go
as I watch the last of the
night sky.
The moon dances across the sky
always opposite of her partner.
Does the moon have a feather boa
or a big scarf dancing like
Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire.
I imagine myself sitting in the curve
of the moon
watching the stars,
reclined,
awaiting my turn
to dance opposite the sun.
Sometimes I look at the
crescent moon
and turn my head to my side
I see a smile
and want to add
two eyes.
How satisfying.