Full moons are lovely but familiar sights.
They cast their gleaming silver and evade
The sharpened shadows of a ravenous night,
Until encountering Earth’s umbral shade;

For when most sleepers to their beds’ embrace
Succumb, hushed conversations will emerge
When neighbors find their spouses have misplaced
The telescope that passed their latest purge.

My seat’s a folded blanket on wet grass,
Our sprinkler-dampened dogs upon our laps,
A strong arm ’round my waist will earn a pass
Beneath that sanguine satellite. Elapse

O fiery moon; beneath the wisping cloud
Your fans find solitude within the crowd.