The Moon Above

The moon above, sedate, serene,
Shines with reflected light
That she stole from the sun to wean
And nurture for the night.

Her strange light shimmers down on all
In an unearthly hue —
Ambassadors wrapped in a pall
That’s neither white nor blue.

Her mystic glance, cast at her whim,
Sheds light on human dreams;
For bright or veiled, blind or horn-rimmed,
Her wrinkled visage beams.

[Adele Gardner is currently painting portals in her hall and building a closet TARDIS.  Home wouldn’t be complete without five cats, five birds, a harpsichord, and two friendly guitars.  She’s had poems and stories in Goblin FruitStrange HorizonsDaily Science FictionSybil’s GarageThe Leading EdgeMythic DeliriumMindFlights, and Star*Line, among others.  She chaired The 2012 Rhysling Anthology.  Her first poetry collection, Dreaming of Days in Astophel, is available from Sam’s Dot Publishing.  Please note: most of this occurred under her previous byline, Lyn C. A. Gardner.]

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