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SWOONING MOON
the moon is confused
it's drunk with pride
dizzily, aggressively
shining so bright
it thinks it's the sun
it's sick of the dark nights
it longs for the days
that it has never met
these skies are clouded with static
the horizon tries to shake us off
the mist softly withdraws
from the water's insistant sparkle
we stand in swaying,
shadowed absorption
trying to hold on
©Copyright 2004 Sheila Cook.