It's Still Life

A Mezza Luna 

My mezza luna, 
crescent moon. 
Up there, pronging 
errant clouds. 

Up there, where stars 
move heaven and earth. 
Cut and sliced, night’s 
fabric redressed.

Full to blousy. 
Wax to wane. 
Sad and joyous, 
so pale and faint. 

Up there. Up there. 
We stare up. Up.

©Misky 2023 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter.