Just taught enough to stand upright
veiny and frilled satellite
mushroom races from spore to sky.
Daylight pumps it up with good
vibes and vitamin C super-strength,
Sun summoning its tiny creation
hands out palms down arms wide,
grinning under cool shades.
But the Moon is where the magic is.
Stardust'n planets smeared across
clear coldness, pinned together
with stars, swimming calmly in the
backdrop of our Moon—Night's
Steward watching solemnly,
withholding judgment for
another life.
Tiny creature rises to zenith
in a cool damp tight nook and
drops its load, microscopic and
pin-pointed.
Sun gives a thumbs up
Moon don't say much,
We'll see,
we'll have plenty of time
to see.
My babies are getting bigger—
My veins getting veinier
and frills getting sillier,
the Moon's watching me
through my window through
the slats in the blinds
as we don't get along,
we sing the same songs,
every night without fail
screams to the wails
until Sleep drapes his veil
and Quiet
bemoans
the stillness.
