For the Pleasure of the Moon

The full moon lit the earth below

Covering it with light and shadow.

Then a voyeur it became

And, peering in their bedroom window,

Beckoned to the couple lying there.

They rose and followed that magnetic pull

Out onto the balcony.

         Their unclothed bodies embraced

         As he held her close to protect her

         From any stray, cool breeze.

         Standing there, they gave thanks

             For the moon

             For the beauty

             And for their love.

    And the moon just smiled

         And winked an eye.

                    Alice Anderson

              **********

Not Quite a Poet

“We will be writing poetry,” the teacher said

And all I could do was groan.

I sunk down into a familiar pit of dread

At the mere thought of creating a poem.

Stories and scenes were easy enough,

And sure, I could handle a personal narrative or two,

But poetry was just too much

For someone like me to do.

I scribbled down a group of lines

And, feeling completely lost,

Tried desperately to make them rhyme.

Needless to say, I was no Frost.

As bad as this was going,

I didn’t think it could get any worse.

After all, the words seemed to be flowing.

But that was before I wrote the second verse. 

                                     Sara Crumpton