by Becky Harblin
Moon
breathtaking,
beautiful,
as always,
but tonight...
decapitated.
Not by clouds,
or evil men,
just the nature
of the cosmos.
Turning not,
on an evil axis,
just turning,
making waves.
Not waves,
of tsunami
destruction,
just the shining
of its eyes
on
some
other world.
Not
the world
where men are bad
just because they
are different,
but, the other
world
where the moon
looks,
while it smiles
on us
and tomorrow
or next month
it will look
upon us,
and smile on them.
What will
we have done
in the meantime?
Becky Harblin, a sculptor who works in concrete and in soapstone also writes poetry daily. Each morning starts with several haiku or senryu, and these words open her day. Becky lives on a farm with sheep in a rural county in upstate New York. After years of working in Manhatten she moved to the more pastoral setting and but life is no less demanding, but, offers different observations and opportunities. This poem was written after watching the news in room lit by the moon.
