Waxing Moon

Location

01983
United States
42° 38' 42.648" N, 70° 56' 34.0476" W

We watch the sky turn,
lustrous blue to slate black, hiding behind
jagged mountains, the bright, gleaming sun
now sleeps, closing its exhausted eyes.
The arise of the full glowing moon
takes its turn, pinned among stars in the sky.

A plane up above, soaring in the sky,
watch as it twists and as it turns,
taking a ride, flipping around the moon.
Now it hides, shrouded behind
dark, ominous, and staring eyes.
Aluminum shines by the light of the sun.

One day, the shine not as strong, the sun
among grey clouds, rolling from the west, the sky
cries, swollen ducts, tears fall from eyes.
Rain falls filling the oceans, boats turn,
upon the shore. On tall waves they crash behind
the waxing crescent of the moon.

It cycles through its phases, the moon
brilliant, then weak. Winter, then again sun
the full moon sitting, waiting behind
China. Where the clouds are grey. Fill the sky
with smog. Now it’s their turn
to ruin the Earth. Why pull the wool over it’s eyes?

Green, with rivers of blue trailing through his eyes.
Sclera whiter than craters of the moon
as tears build up, sadness turns
white to red like the flames glowing off the sun.
The next day, green again like grass, the skies
blue reflects, left troubles behind.

Tall grass hides, a tiger crouched behind.
Dark, creeping, stalking, opaque eyes
watch. The sunset falls, half light, skies
go to sleep. The new, baby moon
arises. Still sleeping until its time, the sun
waits. It has turned to day.

The sun and the moon
share an important job, for our eyes need rest behind
dark lids. We watch the sky turn.

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