She and I

In her travels,
this old round moon saw it all,
soldiers and healers, lovers and liars
predators and victims and artists,
saw it all so many times before, and
still climbed above my oak trees
to smile at me tonight.

Choosing to see me again
as I walk down the hill to my garden
once more before my sleep, it must be
that she loves to look at me, as much
as I love seeing her, high again,
beautiful without adornments,
waltzing across the sky.
© Thomas Hubbard, 2012


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