To Wax Crescent
I.
Tonight, the moon
is a slim wisp of herself,
her knees tucked,
and she waits.
II.
we throw stones,
we’re safe,
live in a brick house.
and that old moon,
it just
glares down on us.
for dVerse: Personifying the Moon
I like the glaring moon… not always sweet and benign is she…
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Nope, not at all. Ask any policeman or emergency services worker, and they’ll tell you the world goes nutty on a full moon.
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Missy, I love that this is a sliver of a poem, just like its muse. And it shines.
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Aaaah, De, I’m always delighted when one of my poems makes you smile. Thank you!
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I admire the two versions of the moon Misky! Sharp and short verses, I like!
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Thanks, Grace. Glad that you liked it
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Thanks so much, Gayle!
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Thank you. It can be a bit of tease!
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It's Still Life 
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