How many stars shine
on the dark side of the moon?
I place my palm against
December’s window and wish
it was dear Luna’s cheek.
She lives melancholy she can’t elude,
but faithfully keeps her face toward
the sun collecting light so I can find
my way through the river of shadows.
Selfish me knows I’m no better than spring
who must wait for Luna to bring her candle
to a nursery of sleeping daffodils...
yet in this spot of night I own the light that cradles me.
©Susie Clevenger 2019