Quiet in bed, I overheard …

Quiet in bed, I overheard

the moon’s low voice

telling the shadows:

Stay clear of her. She is mine. 

Do not drift close to her body, 

do not slide into her mind.

All night, every night

in my childhood and beyond,

she beamed her light.

Shining white, or silvery,

sometimes gold, she filled

my uncurtained window.

         *********

Quiet in bed, I overheard 

the moon tell 

100 thousand million stars:

This one is poetry. Her 

we guard through the night, 

saturate with our light.

Later, when troubles came

and griefs could not be denied,

the moon and stars endured.

Their light ignites my torch,

called poetry – which illuminates

and transforms all shadows.

Full moon photo: © Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2018

Note: It is estimated that there are about 100 thousand million stars in our galaxy.

Written in response to Friday Writings #10 at Poets and Storytellers United.