The moon is wrapped in a pale veil
She rises like a dying lady
Pale and weary
Bigger than an eye
Watching over everyone
Wandering through terrain
That has no appeal to her infirm mind
Trembling amid the icy air
Shrouded in clouds, tampering her light
Oak trees create a shadow tomb
Adding to the ethereal gloom
Leaves chant a song, she no longer remembers
She emits a beam on heaven’s gate
Where ancestral spirits dance in splendor
As the joyless enter
She floats away in a trance of gleam less thought
Alone, for no stars shine tonight
Disappearing long before the sun decides to enter
M.A. Quigley 2/5/2024
Note: Melisa Quigley is a poet and novelist. She lives right outside Melbourne, Australia.
