"Silver disk: Let me call you goddess--
You, with your mirrored face.
Tonight, of all nights, your shape is perfect,
Your presence sublime.
You know it, too. You appear before the sun has even set,
Glorious without your cloak of night,
Gazing down in supreme splendor,
To make this dusty world pastoral."
This morning as I made my way to school on the bus, I caught a glimpse of the moon still hanging in the morning sky, its contours standing out like puffs of icy cloud far away. I felt blessed by the reminder of a restful night not far off, even as another day was just beginning.
You, with your mirrored face.
Tonight, of all nights, your shape is perfect,
Your presence sublime.
You know it, too. You appear before the sun has even set,
Glorious without your cloak of night,
Gazing down in supreme splendor,
To make this dusty world pastoral."
This morning as I made my way to school on the bus, I caught a glimpse of the moon still hanging in the morning sky, its contours standing out like puffs of icy cloud far away. I felt blessed by the reminder of a restful night not far off, even as another day was just beginning.
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