The Moon
- May 20
- 1 min read
In response to Ballad of the Moon by Frederico Lorca
The Moon creeps,
The Moon wanders across the sky.
Her path set,
Her intention clear.
“Run, Moon!”
“Child, let me dance.
Come, hold my hand,
follow my path.
You are safe with me.”
The air is watching, watching,
like a mother,
like a blessing.
No need to run.
No need to fear.
“Moon Child dance with me across the sky.”