Full moon through my writing room windowpanes.
Moon bright white, blemished with cobwebbed shadows.
Moon, glowing molecule of great insane
idea, ignite my dark mind. I bow
to your bright sphere, dull blades of my open
blinds failing to slice your bobbing globe. Moon
recalling bouncing ball, rhythmic Chopin
conducting our moviehouse chorus. Soon
you’ll dissolve from sight in this cloudy night.
Moon, my soul finding hope in darkest space,
make space for all of me. Earth without light
grows cold, threatens my entire kneeling race.
Before you’re gone, lead us in song, some tune
inviting love’s meager glimmer, oh Moon.
Roger Armbrust
March 30, 2010
