Until the Cusping of Dawn
Tonight, the mystical moon languidly drifts in pallid glory
while holding night court, clad in a golden silk sarong.
Ruling her astral kingdom, amusing the stars with a story
about a jumping cow and a spoon; singing a lyrical song.
"Wondrous moon," said I," aureate lamp unto this night,
may your lustrous pathway stay vigilant and never stray."
From celestial height I saw zooming by, myriads of bright,
fiery crimson comet tails, flying over a quiet fishing quay.
Then, moonlight played on lily pads, afloat on Amon Bay,
illuminating croaking frogs, ribbiting and leaping in fun.
They bathed in nocturnal frolic until the faint spark of day
flirted with saucy winks as if to say, "Good morning, Sun."
As morning drew nigh; moonlight sighed and began to dim.
Luna removed her halo to crown Sol at the cusping of dawn.
Baronial were his warming fingers, but now my vision swims,
blurry-eyed, I'm drowning in a whirlpool, trying not to yawn.
The mystical moon will glow again tonight with vivid pomp.
Once more donning her corona, she'll glow in auras of light.
And as sunlight lulls, dulled from his daily exuberant romp,
I will waltz in moonlight's shadows, as if I have taken flight.
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