photo by Collyn Ware

When the Moon is Your Muse
     --for Gracyn
 
You hold the moon in your hands.
Because at eleven, it all seems possible
when the moon is your muse,
when all the world’s wonder is just a lunar length away,
when all its golden honey spills down your arms
and spreads across the earth
with abandon.
 
When the moon is your muse,
you welcome the night
whose dark corners are flooded with light enough
to scare the goblins away.
 
When the moon is your muse,
dreams dot the sky like quicksilver,
like fireflies eager to take their place
among the stars.
 
Oh, there will be time enough
for fruitless hours of work and dread
that march in with hawkish bluster,
eclipsing all that’s dear and pure.
There will be time enough
for nights which settle upon you like shrouds,
lead-footed and cold.
 
But on moonlit nights
when your muse offers her best,
you open your heart in hallowed expectation,
as all the trees genuflect, tipping their moon-glazed tops
to earth.