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Crescent Moon

Posted in Poetry

In the silence tucked between winter gusts,
I hear the beauty of the crescent moon.
The sound, echoing inside my bones,
Started inside my beating heart,
Ecstatic to witness its sky-bound love
Sighing its arc through day's shadow.

Delightful, eager in its sunset reveal,
The crescent's trace so clean and perfect,
Suggesting, perhaps, a tear in the evening sky;
A glimpse through to some kind of heaven,
Where Someone has left the light on.

It is this moon; this orb of sunny ricochet,
'Takes my breath, thrills me with each pass, and
Lures my thoughts from their tethered struggle, then
Flings them upward in a euphoric spray of possibility,
And charges my senses to hear, see, feel
Far beyond...heaven and farther.

- Suzanne Crone

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