Treasure Island

Ronald James de Langen


The Half-Moon On A Clear Crisp Night


The moon; god’s fingernail scrapes the canopy of stars.
The moon; half closed eyelid covers the dreams it spins.
The moon; dappled rays of silver dropped from on high.
The moon; cousin of distant light saught, not caught.

Submitted: Thursday, November 17, 2011
Edited: Friday, November 18, 2011

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