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Sometimes the Moon

By John I. Blair

Sometimes the moon
Peeks through the branches
Of the ash trees down the street,
Teasing me with flashes
Of white loveliness.

Sometimes it surges
Slowly past the roof
Of my neighborís house,
Soothing me with its
Soft and creamy disk.

Sometimes in summer
It drenches the dimness
With a dreamy light,
Making the mockingbirds
Kiss my ears with song.

And sometimes,
Like tonight, the moon
Sails smoothly above me
Through the inky skies,
Towing a planet in its wake.

But even when the moon
Goes in disguise, even
When itís masked
By morning mists,
I know itís mine.

©2003 John I. Blair
 

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