Seeking the Moon
She wakes from darkness
to moonlight’s glow,
peers through windows
in room after room.
Where is the moon,
silver all around, yet nowhere
to be found?
Stepping out to bright cold night,
she bends back, almost falling,
spies the moon at last,
shining cream directly above,
waiting all the white while,
just to be seen.
— Barbara Baillet Moran
