Almost Full Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Before the moon hangs round and bright,
A silver coin in the dark of night,
It's said it watches, guards from above,
A gentle hand, a silent love.

But science whispers a different tale,
Of light that's strong, that will not fail
To stir the clock within our head,
And keep us restless in our bed.

A growing gleam, a nightly sway,
That throws our sleep a little stray.
The moon looks full for hours on end,
And daylight habits start to bend.

The word 'moon' means to count and keep,
To measure seasons, sow, and reap.
Old stories claim a madness brews,
When lunar light our minds confuse.

It pulls the sea with steady hand,
And some say, pulls on mortal land.
Though proofs are slim, the feeling's deep,
Even now, while we're asleep.

The moon, though not yet at its peak,
Holds power that our bodies seek.
A whispered word, a restless dream,
Reflecting back the lunar gleam.

T.M.Solvang