The full yellow moon
looks in through branches
at me doing dishes.

What else can see
anyone anywhere
with such little notice?

Not the burning sun
so bright it parches
deserts with a glance.

Not the tinkling stars
so far apart they compete
with darkness for nothing.

Not the darkness
which sees nothing
even while looking.

Only the moon has
looked so at me and you
and Eve and Adam
and before and ever shall.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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