5 a.m. Dark. The half moon is out next to Orion’s girdle.
At the beach, away from city lights, it all becomes.
I get my half-moon tan and do my half-moon dance in the half-moon light.
My daughter’s favorite place, a place of romance is Half-Moon Bay.
I do not regret the unfullness, but marvel that it can still do what it did when it was full.
Can I say the same?
At 75 am I half full, but still able?
Or am I overfilled, and reflecting His brilliance?
I see the half moon and realize it is still whole, but half obscured.
Am I half ibscured?
I love the moon and she loves me, even by half.
I see my half-moon shadow, still leaping and hopping,
Still worth the dance.
How I miss dancing; holding you in my arms; while the music croons.
So I will dance the night away in the arms of my half-moon,
Half-caste of universal love,
Half a life till it next recovers its fullness,
– Small town boy