Silvery White Moon Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Silvery white moon, half-shining dimly in the morning sun,
sitting just a whisper-wind above the mountains, shyly
contemplating where to go for the rest of the day.

Any moonbeams being cast out have been disillusioned and
mixed up with the suns', wandering aimlessly in a circle.

The moon is timid, but has her way as she rebels against
the dawning of a new day, never wavering, never a doubt,
sitting upon her throne, making her presence quietly known.

Everyone knows she will live again another moon-lit evening
to cast her glorious silvery-white shadow down upon us all
to say good night.