The Storm-Veiled Moon Poem by Toni Atchison

Three nights now I watch the full moon
wade through shoals of storm clouds.
Presented in shades of slate,
they slip across an azure sky.
And the aging moon parts the clouds
as easily as silken scarves,
sewing barogue seams
with quicksilver thread.
She dresses tree and grass
in diamonds and silver.
Locust and frog call for an encore
as lightening vies for attention
with a showy flash.
And the Lady Moon sails on serene,
first veiled as darkly as a Muslim beauty,
then through the virtuous bridal veil,
then bare-faced and shameless,
Queen of the Night Sky
until the clouds slip in again,
and the game begins anew.

2006