The clouds rush their way across the night sky,
Trying to obscure the light of the moon,
But the light wisps are too eager to fly
To retain the celestial god’s boon.
He watches over the town on the hill
With its collection of twinkling lights,
Recognizing that people live there still
Who enjoy the sky’s smiling man’s delights.
I sit across the valley on my ridge
In a chair on the deck of my cabin
With the evening as our only bridge
Connecting the empty space in-between.
Does the eternal round face even care
That we know that he is up in the air?
John Collings 