the moon cow runs into the mist
deerbugfairy in the lemony moonlight
take my bones out to dance in the moonlight
Or, according to Hannah Zahn,
My aunt recently sent me a poem I evidently wrote as a child:
Mr. Moon sits up in a nook,
Fishing the tides with his fishing hook.
He pulls the tides in
And he pulls the tides out,
And he swirls the currents all about.
I got to the end of the day and was afraid I wouldn’t be able to sleep, as I was still haunted by a dream from the night before in which I sobbed helplessly while hearing a song listing the beautiful, complicated names of all the white horses that had been slain. Who would even do that, and why?
So I made this picture, and then yes, I did sleep.
last night low clouds raced across the sky, veiling and unveiling the waning moon